Rokudaime
by Eilyfe
Summary: A home, a wife, a child: despite serving in a decade-long conflict, Naruto has carved out his own piece of happiness. Yet when the Godaime gives him an order he can't refuse and makes him a leader of men, the balance between his family and old dreams threatens to be upended. The crucible of war is harsh, and in Grass a Hokage is forged. [AU]
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Everything belongs to Masashi Kishimoto.

**AN:** As the summary mentioned, this is an AU. Naturally there will be some difference regarding the world and the cast. I'll leave it to you to discover what changed. Again, and for all following chapters, my thanks to the team over at DLP. Over the years they've offered me a lot of support, and for this story, too, their feedback has been invaluable.

* * *

**Rokudaime**

Chapter 1

* * *

"They are coming, sir."

Bad words, and a horrible start to the day. I had every reason to keep my eyes closed against the early morning chill and bury myself farther into my Jōnin vest. A few more seconds, that was all I asked for.

"Sir . . . _Sir!_"

The voice broke into my dream landscape, echoing from the sky as I sat lounging in an oversized noodle bowl. Someone was shaking my shoulder. I stirred with a grumble and turned onto my back.

The face of a Chūnin greeted me. She had pretty eyes, a rare shade of amber, but the tense lines around them betrayed her worry. I disliked anxiety in the morning hours, and Izuna was overflowing with it, more so than her master Sakura had ever been.

"Sir—"

"I heard you," I said, pushing myself up into a sitting position. "I'm up."

I craned my neck to look up the oak I had been sleeping against, trying to catch some sun with my face. Nothing. Only shadows and a green wall reaching to the sky. I jerked my head back down, grimacing when pain jolted through my body. The Kyūbi was still on a strike. I had come to expect nothing less.

Rising to my feet in an awkward stumble, I wished myself back into my dream. Nothing happened—no return to that sweet world. No way around it, then. When duty called you had to answer. Those were the rules now. And that, so it had been made clear to me, counted double during war time.

Izuna was tapping her index finger against her thigh, looking around nervously.

"Report," I said, wiping the sleep out of my eyes.

At the command, her back became straight as a board. "Subaru has sighted the target to the north: six carts, guarded by nine Iwa-nin. Nothing unusual stood out about them."

"How long do we have?"

"They are approximately half an hour away."

I could have slept a good ten minutes longer, then. But that was a newbie for you, with nerves coming through when you least needed them. Izuna was skilled, certainly more than I had been at fifteen, but the Brass' decision to fast track her was ridiculous. This wasn't a field trip.

The silence betrayed me, and she looked at her feet. Great. Hinata was right—I became far too grouchy when I didn't get my seven hours.

Izuna would learn in time, though. I just had to make sure she survived until then. I gave her an encouraging smile, albeit a tired one. "Wake the others and tell them to get ready. One convoy left, then we can get the hell away from this place. I'll make sure we get the best food camp has to offer once we're back. You better believe it."

Izuna took some cheer from that, saluted, and went to fulfill her orders. I gave her five minutes tops, then her anxiety would come back, worse than before. I was a little twitchy as well, though. You never really got used to setting ambushes neck deep in enemy territory.

Still, things were looking good. So far we had gone three for three in terms of raided convoys, and I hadn't lost a single shinobi of the seven under my command. I couldn't wait to get back, though. If this mission proved a success, I'd have all the arguments lined up to get myself two weeks of leave. I'd be away from this damp forest in Fang Country, and back in Konoha in time for the birth of my daughter.

Yawning, I gave the swirl-shaped pendant around my neck a squeeze. Hinata had pained it red and white, like my favorite topping and, coincidentally, also the Hokage's hat. I let the pendant fall back into place. Feared squad leader my sweet tushy. Hinata had made such a sap out of me, it was a miracle I didn't cut myself on my own kunai when I thought of her and the little one.

I shrugged into my vest, ignoring the pain in my shoulder. Around me, the squad was rising, shimmying into their mesh shirts, searching their knives and tantos for nicks and imbalances. At length they assembled in a line, Shikamaru at the far right, waiting for me to give them the rundown once more.

A few months ago, Shikamaru had still held these kind of meetings, while I listened and looked important. Jiraiya had made it clear, though, that a Hokage had to speak, and speak well, in front of others. You could talk like a normal person most of the time, but eventually you'd have to pull out the big sentences to make people feel awe. Writing down speeches was supposed to make giving them easier, but that was the one advice I wouldn't take. The written word and I weren't the best of friends. Taking over Shikamaru's talks was my way of easing into the whole speech thing.

I told my shinobi I would pose asleep near the river, a Konoha-nin who thought he could rest up in peace and drink the horrifying images of his mission away. I'd fight back against the sudden attack, then lure the lot of them away on a wild goose chase through the forest. Iwa-nin, dense bastards that they were, could never resist a defenseless man from Konoha. Once they had weakened their forces around the carts, Shikamaru and the squad would swoop in to destroy the supplies, then give the signal and make for the hills. Once I saw the signal, I'd do likewise. A nice speedy good-bye, after which I'd have Izuna patch me up as best she could.

I expected the same eagerness and anticipation they had shown me every other time. Today, though, I panned my gaze along a row of concerned expressions. I said, "I thought you'd love the idea of getting out of here. Show some spirit, guys. We're almost done with Fang!"

The Chūnin looked away. Only Shikamaru and the third and last Jōnin were returning my gaze. They exchanged a glance, then Shikamaru stepped forward. The years of war had left deep marks on his face. Stress had etched in most of them, but one—running from his chin along his throat—was a gift from a Kumo-nin. His eyes were dark and beady, flashing with cunning and seeing right through you. In those traps you never wanted to be the mouse.

He cleared his throat. I was about to become the mouse.

"It has nothing to do with a lack of spirit," he said. "We're all happy this mission will end soon."

"What's the problem, then? Thought of a better plan? We've only got a little time left, but if you speak fast enough, maybe we can wing it." I shot all of them a cheesy grin, trying to ease the tension. The Chūnin looked guilty. I didn't like that very much.

"The plan is fine," Shikamaru said. "But I think I speak for all of us when I say that we'd be much more at ease if you sat this one out. Let someone else be the bait for once."

Ah. That again. Well, that wouldn't happen. "Come on, Shikamaru. We've been over this. I'm the most suited for the role."

I was, not just strength-wise but also in terms of speed. That we had lost no one so far was owed in large part to the fact that I usually drew the attention of every enemy onto me. After over a decade of service, half of those years spent as a team leader, I hadn't lost a single shinobi under my command. Not unlike Kakashi, who—even years after his death—still held the highest record of team members making it back home alive.

I was getting up there, though, and that was nothing to sneeze at. Such numbers couldn't be argued with, even if Shikamaru still tried it now and then. I got that he only was concerned about me, but the outcome of this attempt would be the same as every other time.

"Maybe you are the most suited," Shikamaru said. "But you're also injured, and have been for a while now. We have several people here who can play that part just as well. People that were assigned your squad for a reason."

"He's right, sir," Haru, the Jōnin next to him, spoke up. He had a sharp, pointed nose that looked like an arrowhead lodged in the middle of his face. "I'm not as fast as you, granted, but I can give them a good run for their money. Give me the chance, and I'll prove it to you."

The Chūnin chose that moment to find their courage, nodding cautiously in agreement.

I actually felt insulted. As if a few injuries were enough to hold me back. "I'm not brittle enough to fall apart after a few injuries, guys." I swept my gaze along the line and made eye contact with each and every one of them. None of them had sustained a crippling injury. That was all the reassurance I needed. The method worked. "We'll do it the old way. Get to your positions. They'll be here soon."

At the direct order, they vanished into the trees, becoming mere shadows in the mist-wreathed forest around us. All but Shikamaru, who kept standing in front of me, his arms crossed. The stance of disapproval was so familiar, I expected long blonde hair to sprout from the back of his head any second now.

"This is a mistake," he said.

My lack of sleep must have really made me look tired. I loved Shikamaru like a brother, but these past weeks he had been clucking about like a mother hen. A sting shot through my arm when I waved his concern away. "You know I don't die easily. In a few days all my injuries will be gone."

"Why not give it a few days then? There's no harm in that."

I rolled my eyes. "I don't need rest. I'm still fully functional."

He let out an explosive breath. "Sometimes you're such a bothersome blockhead, Naruto. Think of Hinata and—"

"Stop it," I said, whiskers twitching. "Call me a blockhead all you want, but leave my family out of this."

Shikamaru paused. "You're right, I'm sorry. But why can't you listen to my advice on this one? You're running yourself into the ground. And you're fooling nobody when you say you're on top of your game right now."

"I'm still fit enough to do the job, though," I said. "Fit enough to ensure my team's not in danger anyway."

"Maybe. But they won't always have you around to protect them."

I gave a frustrated shrug. "This isn't a training camp, Shikamaru. As long as I'm their squad leader, I won't lose a single one of them. That's a promise. Everyone gets to go home."

"Everyone but you?"

The question was asked so earnestly, it stopped me in my tracks as I was about to make another argument for my case. Shikamaru had abandoned the frustrated stance, leaving behind nothing but weariness. He looked defeated, and that smarted more than I cared to admit.

Was he that concerned? I had dealt with so much indifference as a kid, even after all these years I found it strange for people to feel so strongly about me.

"Listen," I said with a sigh, "I'll stay as bait. But, if it makes you feel any better, I'm taking Haru along for the ride. A Jōnin escort for me should put you at ease, right?"

"It would," he said.

The relief on his face made me uncomfortable. "Send him down, then," I said. "We haven't got much time left."

While Shikamaru joined the squad in the treetops, I took a swig from the bottle of sake that was to be my prop. I had a group of Iwa-nin waiting to be robbed. I wouldn't want to disappoint them.

* * *

Wet grass pressed through my poncho. I was lying next to Haru on the bank of a river meandering through the clearing. Thick mist was curling on the water. Perching on the trees across the river, my squad would be sitting to observe it all. Or rather they would look to Subaru, whose Byakugan was the only thing that could see me through the mist.

He was a strange cookie, that branch Hyūga. Long hair tied back in the way of his clan, but the rest of him a much darker complexion since he'd been stationed in Wind Country for years. He was as unreadable and stern as the rest of his family, yet the desert had also seen him picking up some kind of shamanism. What would the mighty Hyūga clan say when he came home after all these years, dark as sunbaked clay, with little bones woven into his hair? The more prim and proper Hyūga would probably burst a blood vessel. I'd pay good money for that kind of entertainment.

The earthen smell and bird song around us would have been idyllic if my back weren't soaking through like a towel thrown into a puddle. Slinking around wet to the bone was a bad way to the spend the summer, but at least the sake kept me warm.

"Want some?" I sat up, reaching Haru the bottle.

Haru shook his head. He was tense.

"One more," I said, taking another swig. "That's all we need. Then it's back home. How old are your kids now?"

"Seven and three," he said.

"Seven, huh? That's the girl, right? She's about to enter the Academy then."

"They lowered the age to five." Haru stopped looking around the clearing. "She's been a student for two years already. Our backyard is full of wooden shuriken and kunai. They're only allowed steel in their third year."

"I bet she can't wait for that. Steel's the real deal. Wood got nothing on that cold feel of a real brace of shuriken between your fingers."

Haru's lips curved into a smile. "True. And she's got it in her head that she'll be a Genjutsu expert."

"Not Ninjutsu like her father? Is your wife good at Genjutsu?"

"Passable, I'd say. But Kurenai is a friend of hers, and she visits us whenever she gets some leave."

"That would explain it," I mused, leaning back. "I never got into Genjutsu. I just don't have that kind of control."

"Which is a damn shame, sir, if you don't mind me saying so. The area you could cover with those reserves is staggering. Putting a whole town under wouldn't be a stretch, I think."

I shrugged. I was about to say that I had made peace with my inability at Genjutsu a long time ago, when the rumbling of carts became noticeable. Soon after came the voices—Iwa sure wasn't hiding its presence. I climbed to my feet, pulling up Haru with me.

"Did you just call my wife ugly?" I shouted, waving the bottle around.

Haru looked uncomfortable at the situation I had put him in. I grinned, teasing the courage into him.

"I never would," he said, raising his voice. "I called her daft for marrying a chump. Who'd want to cook for you?"

Ouch. He was getting into it. "Well, you won't have to worry about anyone cooking for you once my fist finds your face, dumbass."

"Yeah? I'd like to see you try, you two-bit—"

"You two, stop it!"

Haru and I turned to the Iwa-nin, the leaf of Konoha proudly displayed on the hitai-ate around our foreheads.

"Shit," I said, hurling the bottle right at the first one's head. As it shattered, I flipped off the rest of them. "Today's your lucky day. But don't you go and feel safe now. If we meet again, we'll have ourselves a grand party, you hear me?"

Their confusion was a memory to be treasured. When they jumped at us, we leapt away, straight into the mist. My feet feathered across the river, then I was off toward solid ground once more. I leapt again, this time onto a branch, with Haru right beside me.

The chase was on. I didn't know how many were coming along for the ride, but it sounded like more than four at least, which would've halved the group around the carts. Shikamaru should encounter no trouble cleaning them up.

At the whir of shuriken, I ducked my head and hurried on. The projectiles missed their mark, biting into the bark near me. More followed. I dodged around the branches, swinging myself down to another height before shooting off again, ignoring the discomfort in my shoulder and arm.

I always kept an eye on Haru, but he was fine, deflecting and dodging as needed.

An incoming hail of pebbles tried herding us to the right, but I had been fighting Iwa-nin for too long now to fall for that trick. "Brace!" I called out, barreling with Haru right through the hail.

A moment later, a boulder the size of a trashcan hurtled past us, right at where we would've been had we tried to avoid the stony rain.

Sometimes, Iwa-nin were really too easy.

The thought amused me until the more careful part of me called me a fool in Kakashi's voice. Too easy wasn't good, not in these parts. I reached for a kunai from my leg holster and swiped at a host of senbon before they could shave off my whiskers. As the senbon fell to the ground, it hit me. The attacks were lukewarm. Just enough to keep us going, but with barely any effort put into them.

Shikamaru usually worked fast, and we were already four minutes away from the clearing. He should've given the signal by now, and—

The sudden silence in the forest was eerie. Not even a bird plucked up the courage to interrupt it.

I stopped, cracking the branch under my feet. "Haru—!"

Too late. Haru hurtled past me, toward the ground, a red-wreathed shadow following him. I leapt after them, the hairs on my neck like vipers. My body had felt it earlier than my mind could process it. The potent miasma of chakra that had hit Haru set my teeth on edge. The essence of it was as familiar to me as my own.

Haru lay prone on the ground, dazed by the blow. I blasted myself forward with wind chakra, barely overtaking the shadow before it reached him. I had no time to get into a better position. The force of the punch fell right onto my injured arm, cracking it. I bit down a curse while the attacker leapt back into the mist.

I wouldn't play that kind of game. I called more wind, blowing away the mist in every direction, and found him standing in between the trees, looking at us. He was built like a brick house, his arms covered in tattoos. His lips twitched between his scraggly red beard.

"Are you alright?" I asked Haru, but no answer came. "Haru?"

That first monstrous blow had knocked him out cold. I couldn't blame him, given that it had been right to the head, but it made this far more difficult.

Now there were other presences as well, sitting in the trees north of us. Six, maybe seven people, though none of them resembled the signatures I had felt pursuing us earlier. I narrowed my eyes at the Jinchūriki. The skill needed to create clones that couldn't be detected by a Byakugan was staggering. I couldn't do it. I was able to fool Jiraiya and Tsunade, but Hinata always knew whether I was real or not.

Out of habit I had left behind some clones on the chase, though, hidden as animals and branches. They were to assist my squad if necessary, but I needed them more now. I summoned a new clone with mental orders that came alive as a stone under my heel, and squashed it.

Time was everything. I had to make do until Shikamaru got here to take Haru off my hands and keep the other Iwa-nin busy. Maybe that guy would leave us the hell alone if all his friends were out of the picture.

First, then, manners. The wife was particular about those.

"Can I at least have your name before we smash each other's faces?"

"I don't see my face getting touched here, boy." He was calm and solid as rock, his brow raised in challenge. "The same can't be said about your friend there."

That sentence alone was more than enough reason to have earned himself a good hiding. He'd also called me boy, though, and I'd pay him back gladly for that. Later. Once Haru was out of danger.

"Say what you want, old man, but since we're both, you know, of the same kind, I thought it'd be nice to be polite."

"Stalling, huh?" He shrugged. "Ah, doesn't matter. You go first."

He had seen right through me. Although, to be fair, I hadn't tried to hide it. That he was still playing along was a problem wholly of its own.

"Uzumaki Naruto," I returned, more wary now, even as my clones took up position south, west, and east of us.

"Rōshi of the Lava Mountain."

Admittedly, the title got that certain something. "Fancy name that. Now, Rōshi, it's been fun talking to you. Have a nice day!"

The first blade of wind slammed into him. The next cut through the mist from another direction. Then followed a third, and a fourth, and ever more until the screeching wind filled the entire forest. Blade after blade was shearing through the trees and greenery, cutting off branches and slicing whole trunks in two. Oaks crashed into one another, struggled, then hit the ground with a threatening rumble. As the first trees fell sideways, shrubbery and branches poured from the sky, blotting out my vision.

Shadows leapt between the falling trees, trying to find steadier footing. The chaos had rooted out his allies as well.

I used the confusion to make my escape with Haru slung over my shoulder. There was no way this would've been enough to lay out Rōshi, but that hadn't been my aim anyway. This whole thing looked like a trap for me, and not like a supply convoy quick on the uptake.

Besides, I had never faced off with another Jinchūriki before. I planned to keep it that way. I didn't know what would happen if we actually got into the thick of things. Would I be able to keep from using bony claws and swishing tails and the red, toxic cloak of chakra when the fight got too intense? I didn't want to be the first Jinchūriki to violate the Tenmen Treaty, perhaps the only piece of paper in this world that still held some weight—which was a miracle in itself.

I was pushing off another tree when I sensed Rōshi right next to me. I turned midair, barely getting Haru out of the way of the blow. Rōshi's knuckles hit me like a hammer an anvil, smashing right through my hasty defense and sending me hurling toward the ground.

I clutched at Haru, turned, and landed hard on my back, tears jumping to my eyes as the forest floor cratered under me, blasting grass and moss away and leaving nothing but hard earth.

Dizzy, I pushed Haru off me and climbed to my feet. I spat out a wad of blood, and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

Rōshi was walking toward us, his fists smoking as though he'd use them to brand me like cattle. There was a death-like certainty to his steps that, frankly, pissed me off. I straightened as much as I could under the pain.

The wind shifted behind me. Pebbles crunched. Then my team was there, standing and crouching around me and Haru like protective statues come to life.

I had conjured them after all, and grinned my bloodiest grin at Rōshi. Say what you want, but the Uzumaki magic worked every time.

* * *

"Good to see you're still alive," Shikamaru said.

"Agreed," I returned, "though Haru's got the worst of it. Izuna, he's your responsibility now. Subaru, work it."

Crouching next to me, the Hyūga raised his hands in a seal. The veins around his eyes popped. "Six shinobi. One of them carries a huge scroll, though he looks like a close combat specialist."

The ground under our feet shivered. We leapt aside, Izuna taking Haru, as a fount of lava broke open the floor.

Then Rōshi was in front of me, fist flying. I leaned to the side, death passing me by, and kicked off from the ground, shooting high into the air and out of reach. "Squad, get them! I'll take care of this."

Half a second later I was slugging it out with Rōshi again. Or rather, he was slugging it, and I did my hardest to keep distance between us. Soon my team would have taken care of things. There was no need to let loose here, even though I really wanted to. I had learned this the hard way, though. Whichever path gave us the highest chance of making it out alive with everyone was the one I'd walk.

Rōshi drove me relentlessly before him. Where I stepped, he was too, delayed by only a fraction of time. An endless stream of clones rose from the ground, met my own, crumbled as mine puffed away in clouds of smoke. Earthen spears, fiery boulders, lava lances—the projectiles at his command were inexhaustible. I dodged and weaved, switched with my clones, but no matter what I did, Rōshi cottoned on to it.

For all my craftiness, he had a good thirty years on me, if not more. Decades in which people had been running from him while he hunted them down. He had probably seen every method of escape man ever invented.

The problem was that I even had to resort to craftiness instead of brute force, but my arm was nearly unusable and gave me little choice.

When I juked left, then switched with a clone, I found his elbow crushing my insides. Half a minute and twenty maneuvers later, his fist struck my face a second time and sent me flying.

I was losing, slowly but surely. I had no time to think about the causes, though. I had to keep him away from my team, that was all. As long as Rōshi didn't fight them, everything was alright.

The forest around us became a wreckage. Fir trees stood on fire, trunks lay scattered and broken, and mounds of earth had welled up where our techniques met. My body was a single bruise. My breath came heavy.

Then Shikamaru landed next to me. I was sick to my stomach. He shouldn't be so close! But an enemy shinobi landed next to Rōshi, and I took the breather.

"How . . . How are things?" I panted. "What's with the scroll?"

"Three down already. We think they've sealed the supplies in that scroll. Their mission was probably to kill us and deliver them afterwards."

What a rosy prospect. It made sense, though. The chakra requirement for sealing scrolls scaled with the amount packed into them. Only a Jinchūriki was able to seal supplies from a whole convoy. Which also meant this ambush wasn't planned just for me. If anything, it was a horrible coincidence for Rōshi and me to meet.

That changed things. For this mission to be successful, I'd have to destroy that damn scroll and the supplies inside. Otherwise I wouldn't get my leave, and neither would my team. There was no way in hell I'd miss out on my daughter's birth.

"Get back and finish off those guys," I told Shikamaru.

"Are you—"

"Go!"

Shikamaru knew better than to argue during a fight. He told me to survive, then left me alone with Rōshi, who had strapped the scroll to his back.

It was time to go on the offensive. It would be one of the crazier ones, likely to leave Shikamaru a horrified mess were he to see it. Good thing he was busy.

I said, "Seems like your guys are almost done fore. Want to give up?"

Rōshi barked a laugh. "I'll just kill all of you before that happens."

Done speaking, he ran at me. I matched him pace for pace, and we met right in the middle of this place that had once been a forest and now was ash and tinder.

He swung wide, his fist encased in hardened lava. I ducked under it, pushed forward into his guard, and took a hold of him with both arms. It was like hugging a furnace. Hits rained onto my back. Their repeated impact made my shoulders cry out in protest, while the fabric of my vest burnt away, leaving a searing heat on my back as though he was hitting me with a hot poker.

I stifled a scream, my hands racing through a seal behind his back. One more second, then the work was done. I let go, and slid down against him to the ground, leaning against his legs. Sheer relief came over me as the heat gave way and the crisp morning air caressed my burnt back.

He smashed his fist into me from above, sending me sprawling at his feet like an old doormat, then kicked me away.

Every bone in my body was screaming, even more so when I came to a halt and looked up awkwardly from the ground. Rōshi was breathing wildly, eyes bugging out. Evidently, he didn't like hugging. And for once in my life I counted myself lucky to be a Jinchūriki. Any normal human would've died from that onslaught.

I struggled to my feet, wiping sticky red hair away from my eyes. He would notice it any moment now . . .

Rōshi reached behind him. The scroll was gone.

While holding tight to his midriff I had cut the threads to the scroll with a wind technique, before forming a clone to take it away.

"Where is it?" he growled.

"Scattered," I said, gesturing at the tiny pieces of paper littering the ashen forest floor. "I've never been good at handling valuable writing. Sorry, man. Maybe with some time and spit you can glue it back together?"

His chakra flared like a thunderstorm. He looked ready to go Bijū on me right there. Then his head swiveled. A moment later, my squad landed next to me, all worse for the wear but alive.

Rōshi looked at us like an enraged bull, neck muscles bulging, hair windswept and standing on end. He took another long look at me, coal-like eyes shining fiercely, then he was gone. I had a feeling he'd remember my face.

I turned to my team. "Is Haru alright?"

"He's fine," Izuna said. "Just unconscious."

"Good. Two other things," I said to Shikamaru.

He was battered and bruised, but right there to listen. "Yes?"

"Get the scroll from my clone. He's hiding somewhere in those bushes over there." At that point, the scattered remains of paper went up in ringlets of smoke as my army of hidden clones puffed away. I was unreasonably pleased that my ruse had worked.

Subaru went over to the shrubbery to get the scroll. Shikamaru said, "The second thing?"

I was too tired to make a kiss face, so I looked him straight in the eyes and said, "Hold me," before keeling forward, out like a light.

* * *

It took me a day to wake up for the first time. All I could remember was a bone-deep exhaustion, the soothing voice of a woman, and a gentle swaying, as though I was standing on the deck of a ship. Two days later, when I woke up again—this time for real—it was on a straw futon, lying on my stomach. Izuna was carefully applying salve to my back, her long, thin fingers bringing relief with every cold touch. If I hadn't been curious about the state of affairs, I might have drifted off toward another day of sleep.

She told me that we were back at the main camp. She had carried me all the way from Fang, healing me as much as possible while on the run. It wasn't a trivial task, and I saw why Sakura had taken such a fancy to her. When I said as much, Izuna's fingers paused, then resumed their work with even more diligence.

"I hope you don't think me too forward, sir, but I'm glad we're back here and you got to rest."

"Fang wasn't my idea of a good vacation either," I told her. "Tell the others that from now on until the next mission rolls in I want the whole squad drunk and in a good mood. If I see one sober soul, that'll be latrine duty for the whole team."

"I will do that, sir," she said. I could hear the grin in her voice.

"Damn right you will. We survived an ambush and took a whole convoy worth of supplies from a Jinchūriki. If that's not worth celebrating, I don't know what is. The Brass must be dancing on the tables right now."

The moment her hands stopped working their magic I knew I had said something strange. My voice hardened. "What is it?"

Before she could answer, the flap to the tent was pushed aside. Shikamaru stepped inside, clad in black slacks, his Jōnin vest nowhere to be found. The casual Shikamaru was usually a harbinger of good news. This time, though, he had a pinched look on his face, as if he were about to talk to potential in-laws.

"Can you give us a minute?" Shikamaru asked.

Izuna's cold hands left my back. I was bemoaning their loss even as I tried figuring out what I had missed.

"I was outside and heard about the order you gave," Shikamaru said, pulling over a chair. "I'll make sure they stay drunk. Even Subaru, though that might take some convincing."

"Stop buttering me up and give it to me straight. What happened?"

He leaned back in the chair. "The scroll we took from your clone was a fake. Infused with chakra and with enough scribbles to make it look like an actual seal, even to a Byakugan."

"So we didn't get the supplies . . ."

"If there were supplies to begin with. Rōshi might have played us. They might have stashed the supplies somewhere else. Or maybe they never existed at all. There are too many variables to say for sure what happened."

I lay still as I listened. Outside sounded the rough barter from passing shinobi and the yapping of dogs. I balled my fists. All these injuries for nothing, then. Would they let me go back to Konoha now?

"Before you start spiraling you should know that I already made my report," Shikamaru said. "They didn't care all that much about the supplies. To be frank, they found it miraculous that none of us died, even though we met a Jinchūriki. They're pleased, is what I'm saying."

"I find that hard to believe." The Brass was never pleased. They were always looking for excuses to dock you leave time. None of my missions so far had been perfect, even those that were.

Shikamaru shrugged. "I'm just telling you what they told me. Though you're right that they're probably after something else. Stories are spreading already—again. We told Haru what happened, and naturally he told the rest of the camp. The word is that you single-handedly sent Rōshi packing while we kept his posse off you. Some even say that you sent him packing while defending us from his men."

I hadn't exactly sent him packing, but I could stomach the added notoriety. I had done it all my life. "Does the Brass' pleasure come with any benefits?"

"Good food. Better quarters. And, most importantly, more leave. They're giving us three weeks instead of two. All they ask for is that you check in with the Godaime first, once you're in Konoha."

"Huh? Can't he just read the report?"

"I'm sure he can, but I'd be surprised if he was asking you there just to talk about the mission."

I didn't much like Danzō, but so far he had steered Konoha well enough through these troubled times. Eight years, I think. Since Jiji died. On further thought, my dislike for Danzō was solely based on his sinister looks. I had never had much to do with him in a professional manner. Maybe he was a perfectly nice old man who had drawn the shit end of the stick in the facial department. Such things happened sometimes. I was about to share that vital piece of information when Shikamaru reached into his pouch and pulled out a book with a grimy cover.

"What's that?"

"A diary I suppose," he said. "Subaru found it next to the fake scroll."

I hadn't been all that precise with my wind technique while fighting Rōshi. I had probably cut the book loose on accident.

"Rōshi didn't strike me as the kind to write a diary," I said.

"It's not his. It belongs to a girl, I think. I haven't read much farther than the first few sentences, though."

"Why would Rōshi keep that?"

"Beats me. The content could be valuable, though. It might give us some clue how to fight him next time."

"A girl's diary? I doubt it."

"You want me to give it to an analyst? I haven't shown anyone else yet. I thought you might like to see it first."

I shrugged and held out my hand. Shikamaru gave me the book and left the tent, saying that he had to make sure everyone stayed drunk, even Subaru. Outside I heard the click of his lighter.

I brushed my thumb across the rough leather cover. A diary, huh? It would be the first time in years that I read something besides a mission scroll. A new experience, if nothing else. I cracked open the book to the first page. There were wet stains and also droplets of dried blood. The handwriting looked crude, and was still worlds better than mine:

_Mom gave me this book to write in and made grandfather promise I could keep it. I don't know how often I will be able to write though. I don't want to leave the estate, but grandfather forces me to. I hate him! Why do I have to leave mom when I could live with her? And that because some old man in the mountains is supposed to make me into a strong shinobi . . . I don't even want to be a strong shinobi. All it brought my family so far has been pain. I'd much rather play with my friends. And I don't think this man knows how to do my hair. Only mom knows how. I won't trust anyone else with it._

I raised my eyebrows. Who wouldn't want to learn how to be a strong shinobi? That girl had some issues, though the wish to stay with her family was certainly easy to understand. I turned the page for the next entries:

_I hate grandfather. He is adamant that I go. He says I exist only because mom was too weak to defend herself on a mission. Does that mean I'm a mistake? He hugged me when I asked him. I never know what is going on with him. Grandfather is a strange old man._

_My new teacher is called Rōshi. Just Rōshi. He's even worse than grandfather. He's always angry. He shouts at me every day, and makes me run and learn how to fight. If I don't hunt for my own food, I won't get anything to eat. I really, really, really hate him. He insults me all the time and sheared off my bangs because supposedly I need to see what's in front of me. Yesterday I fell unconscious from one of his punches. That asshole broke my nose! I really don't know how long I can stomach this training. I want to go back to mom, but Rōshi won't let me. Apparently it would weaken my resolve._

_Rōshi and grandfather can't keep me in these mountains forever, though. I know when Rōshi falls asleep—his snores are loud like a mountain echo. I can use that and run away. Tomorrow night I'll make a break for it and see mom._

Rōshi liked to cut off the hair of little girls? I filed that information away for later. The story wasn't half bad. If that nameless girl managed to flee from Rōshi, I'd for sure taunt him to hell and back should we meet again.

I was about to turn the page when a person came storming into the tent, skidding to a halt in front of my futon.

"Naruto!"

That kind of excitable voice could belong only to one of two persons in all of Konoha. One of them was dead. "Lee? What are you doing here? I thought you were stationed in Ikuba-Chō." I looked up in askance and immediately regretted that decision, since his green suit was hugging his junk like a prostitute her pimp. I found a point at the opposite side of the tent that was much better to stare at.

"I still am," he said, "I've been on leave for half a week now, though. But when I heard the news I said I'd do it and came straight here from Konoha."

"News?" I asked, straining hard to look past his junk and toward his face. His smile was so big, bright and excited, you could have powered a whole village with it.

"It's Hinata," he said. "She went into labor! Sakura told me. I came here as fast as I could, hoping you weren't out on a mission to bring youthful glory to Konoha."

The words hit me like a brick to the face. I was frozen to the futon, my thoughts going a mile a minute. Then I jumped up, rushed over to the corner where my duffle bag was leaning against a barrel of water, and rifled through it for my shirt. The pain was so remote all of a sudden that I could hardly believe it myself. My eyes felt like they were about to pop out of their sockets as I was struggling into my vest.

Shikamaru came back into the tent. "I just heard that Lee's here," he said. "What are you doing, Naruto? You should be—"

"Hinata's in labor," I said.

I half-expected Shikamaru to stop me due to my injuries, but he said nothing else, content to observe me alongside Lee. When I turned from my bag, all kitted out, Shikamaru smiled. "I'll take care of things here. Give Hinata my best. The little one as well."

"I will," I said. I couldn't keep it in anymore. My whole face felt stretched into a single, all-encompassing grin. I shouldered the bag and stepped out into the sunlight, Lee following me. Two minutes later we were cutting through the forest toward Konoha at a speed that would shear the skin from bone for most people.

* * *

Chapter End


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **Everything belongs to Masashi Kishimoto.

* * *

**Rokudaime**

Chapter 2

* * *

Fortified and well-guarded, Konoha's walls became visible in the evening hours. During my journey with Lee I hadn't thought once about stopping, even if my breath came wheezy like wind in a drainpipe and my legs burnt worse each leap. The walls looming just ahead, I had to keep myself from jumping over them and breaking war time regulations. There'd be no exception to the rules, not even for little old me—soon-to-be the most badass father in the world.

Lee and I came to a brutal stop before the main gate, blasting away the pebbles underfoot in a wide circle. Within seconds, Chūnin and Jōnin had us surrounded, their knives, swords and wires gleaming in the fading sunlight.

Some situations needed a measured approach—Kakashi's words—so I raised my hands peacefully enough that even the slowest Chūnin could track my motions.

"Uzumaki Naruto, leader of Team Sixteen and Team Nineteen, Wind-Fire Front. My commanding officer is—"

"Yeah, yeah, we don't need all that, do we? Let them in, boys. He's good to go. Lee as well."

Kiba broke through the ranks of guards and came sauntering toward us with that Inuzuka swagger of complete and utter confidence. His hair had grown long enough that it was hard to tell if he was man or wolf. When a Jōnin protested our preferential treatment, Kiba's passing glance shut him up quicker than a punch to the face.

What the hell was Kiba doing on guard duty? Last I heard he had been right at the forefront of every major offensive. Had he socked a superior officer or went in too deep after the enemy? If so, no need to bring it up, though. Things like those happened routinely to Inuzuka around the world.

We bumped fists like in the old times, a touch here, a smack there, a silly noise to cap it off. The procedure left the guards speechless. Lee wasn't quite sure what he was looking at, but I could see that he desperately wanted to try it himself.

"Listen," I said to Kiba, "I'd love to stay right now, but I've got to get to Hinata. We can catch up later."

His eyes grew big. "Is it time?"

"It is," I said.

He clapped my shoulder. "Off you go then. Make space, you damn bastards. Here's a father coming through! Are you deaf? _Space_, I said!"

I leapt over their heads, onto Konoha's main thoroughfare. The last thing I heard was Kiba asking Lee whether he had any illegal contraband hidden in his suit. I stepped up the pace, trying to outrun that image.

The streets had grown sadder. Here and there was an attempt at restoring some of the old vitality—a dash of colored tarpaulin, a row of planted trees, balconies full of flowers—yet barely any people showed their faces. The clotheslines were empty. Most civilians had migrated to areas lacking shinobi villages. Which was fair, given that we shinobi had hit a rough patch when it came to how we were treating each other.

I came running into the foyer of the hospital, looking around wildly before fixing my eyes on the nurse manning the reception. I still looked battered and bruised, more animal than man. When I walked over to the nurse, she shrunk back into her chair.

This close to the scene of action, the lump in my throat was closing up my windpipe. I croaked, "My wife," unable to get out anything else.

"Your wife?" the nurse said, fear easing off her face. She adjusted her glasses.

"Labor," I managed. "Me, father. Soon." I was making myself out to be a first class mouth breather in front of that lady.

Thankfully, understanding dawned on her. "Uzumaki-san, correct?" she said with a smile. "Is that the name of your wife as well?"

I nodded proudly. It had been a battle and a half to get this past the other Hyūga, but we'd done it—not the least due to Hiashi's help.

The nurse accessed the records, trailing her finger down a row of names. A minute later she closed the book. "I'm sorry, but she's not here."

"What? Is the birth over already?"

"I can't say. No one with the name Uzumaki checked into the hospital since your last visit six years ago." She looked at me over the rim of her glasses. "Shinobi on active duty have a mandatory one-year check-up, Uzumaki-san . . . I will let this slide for now, but do come by as soon as you can."

"Try Hyūga," I urged.

"Oh dear, your wife is a Hyūga? No wonder she isn't here. They're a secretive bunch, with all kinds of birthing rituals. You'll have better luck finding her at the Hyūga compound. I'm sure she's there."

Birthing rituals. Right. Hinata might've told me about those. Maybe. I ran out of the reception hall, cutting across the hospital lawn to save time. An elderly couple jumped from their park bench. Forty years younger they might've killed me on accident, being startled shinobi and all that. Weak murderous intent flared up behind me for a moment, then I was out of sight.

The Hyūga compound wasn't far from the hospital, and I made good time there. A branch Hyūga guarded the gate. His attentive appearance would never tell you that he was bored, but I knew better. No matter where you came from, guard duty broke you eventually. If there ever was a human universal, it was this.

I skidded to a halt before him. It sure wasn't my most dignified entrance.

"Uzumaki-san," he said, surprised. "Hiashi-sama is not in at the moment. We didn't know you were coming. Shouldn't you be—"

"Is it over? The birth?"

My stomach sank into my sandals at the befuddled look on his face. Then his eyes brightened. "The labor is not taking place here, Uzumaki-san. You will be able to find Hinata-sama back at your home. She wished to be in a comfortable and known environment for the birth."

A quick thank you, and off I was again, leaping onto the next best roof and smiling like a loon as I kept jumping from house to house. Hinata wanted to be in a comfortable environment. She wanted to be in our home! Soon I'd be with her, and then with the little one too. I had to think of a name. _We_ had to think of a name. A good one, with power and grace and all that made a name amazing. Damn, could this day get any better?

"Uzumaki-san."

I dug in my heels, breaking a tile underfoot. "Yes?"

Two ANBU had stopped me: one stocky, one lanky—both armed, armored and ready, even though they stood relaxed in front of me.

"The Hokage wishes to see you."

The warmth in my belly was gone. "You can't be serious."

They stared back at me with these dark empty manholes ANBU had for eyes in their masks. No humor to be found. I glanced at the direction of my home. "Come on, guys. My wife's in labor. I'm going to be a dad. A dad! Can you imagine?"

They remained as stoic as lamp posts. Another tack, then. "Can't you say you found me in, let's see, half an hour? At least give me the time to see my wife for a moment while she's having our baby." I didn't have to play up my desperation by much. If they took the bait, I'm sorry to say, I'd do them a bad turn. The moment I set foot across that doorsill, I'd barricade the place with a thousand clones if need be until the birth was over and done with.

Lanky and Stocky weren't interested though. They stayed aloof and repeated their order.

A growl was building in the back of my throat. "How long will this take?"

"That is for the Hokage to decide."

I came very close to hitting them. Even in my current state I was more than strong enough to take on two ANBU. But these two came with direct orders during wartime. If I knocked them around, I'd land in water hot enough to boil ramen with. I didn't like that hanging over my family. My daughter should grow up having every opportunity, without any of the baggage I had to carry as a brat. There were many reasons to reach for the Hat, but ever since Hinata had told me she was pregnant, this one had become chief among them. If I wore the robes, no one—no matter how old or how stuck in past regrets and losses—would dare treat my kid badly. I'd make damn sure of that. I'd always give her something to look up to. Something to be proud of, like my dad had.

I couldn't slug my future shinobi, though, or my chances would go down considerably. Grumbling for them to hurry up, I dashed past the two ANBU, tearing across the roofs toward Danzō's office. If I missed the birth of my child because of this, one day I'd have them scrubbing my damn toilet.

* * *

"Follow me, please, Uzumaki-san. He will see you now."

I was on my feet the moment Danzō's secretary rounded the corner. The past minutes had been like waiting for ramen to finish without any of the excitement.

The secretary led me through a dark hallway, then pushed open a door and ushered me inside. My eyes had to get used to the brightness first. The room reeked of antiseptic. Danzō sat on a white chair, wearing a white hospital robe, studying a map and reports on a white table. His visible arm was thin now, barely half of what I remembered. Near a stack of unopened scrolls lay the red-and-white hat, as if to remind visitors of his status. A tray on wheels stood next to his chair, holding tonics of different colors. One vial was uncorked, a tiny puddle of blue liquid spilled around it.

The sickness pervading the room stopped me short. I had heard rumors that Danzō wasn't appearing in meetings anymore, but I hadn't put much stock in them. Maybe I should have.

My eyes drifted to the large hospital bed in the corner of the room. Every inch was covered with swirls and squiggles. Machines collared the bed on all sides like bodyguards, filling the room with a host of dull, rhythmic sounds. Somewhere in the rafters a few ANBU were sure to be slinking around as well.

"Are you done gawking, Uzumaki? Sit down."

Without looking up from the map, Danzō weakly motioned at one of the chairs.

As I took my seat, his eye met mine for a brief moment, and most of my worry fell away. Obsidian, steely, neither broken nor bent: in that eye was the resolve to start another war this very night if need be. Not necessarily a good thing, but at least Konoha hadn't lost its leader yet. I had learned long ago to look for the silver lining wherever I could.

"Permission to speak, sir," I said. Once Jiji had died and Danzō became the Godaime, Sakura had drilled me mercilessly in matters of appropriate behavior. I'd hated it at first, but it had been before I came to know Jiraiya and Tsunade. With my direct link to the higher powers gone, I adapted. By now it was like any other persona a shinobi might find the need to develop.

"Granted," he said.

"My wife is in labor. I know this must be important, but could we reschedule this meeting for tomorrow? I want to see the birth of my daughter." I smiled, ready to uncork the honey jar. "She'll make a good kunoichi one day, better than any you ever had on the force, I promise."

When Danzō replied with a grunt, I thought it sounded amused. He stayed silent, though, and kept focusing on his report. Maybe it had been unfunny to him after all? Half a minute later I was quite certain his grunt had been one of anger.

"So . . . " I began again. "About the birth . . ."

He put the scroll aside. "I wish your family good fortune, Uzumaki, but matters of the village always stand above those of personal nature." Danzō's voice was raspy and on the haggard side, but the undercurrent of authority was hard to miss.

I glanced at the clock.

When Danzō went back to his report, a disrespectful grunt slipped out of my mouth. Even Sakura's teachings had their limit. "At least have the decency to be quick about it, man."

He made a mark on a different sheet of paper, filed it away a long minute later, then leaned back in his chair, quite unimpressed. "As you wish, Uzumaki. What can you tell me about Grass Country?"

"Small country. Lots of forests, rivers, and ravines. The Third War didn't treat it too kindly. Last I heard Orochimaru made the place his home after quitting on Rice Country, which is why for once we and Iwa haven't made it our stomping ground. That's about it." And wasn't that just the damndest thing, attributing peace to the snake?

"Adequate," Danzō said, "for the most part. You forgot that Grass has rich soil and has historically been a major exporter of food."

"So?"

Danzō snorted in dismay. "An army needs food, Uzumaki. A lot of it. Say nothing of the geostrategic importance of Grass. If we take possession of these resources, our efforts against Iwa will be much improved. It would give us the edge needed to bring this war to an end. Having had Jiraiya and Kakashi as teachers, I would have thought you to jump from joy at such an opportunity."

"Orochimaru is still haunting that place," I said. "Any attempt at making Grass ours, and he'll be there to kick us out. With him hiding in the bushes it's a waste of manpower." A horrible idea dawned on me. Would Danzō actually order me to take out Orochimaru? I wasn't afraid of the snake, but it would be a sure death sentence to quite a few people on my team. "Sir," I added curtly, "I don't think sending my team to assassinate Orochimaru is a good idea. Let me go alone, and I can—"

"You're speaking nonsense, Uzumaki. Orochimaru has already been taken care of."

Without giving me a chance to process this information, Danzō went on, "The details are classified and not your concern. What _is_ your concern, however, is this." He slapped his hand feebly on the part of the map that showed Grass. "The clans that supported Orochimaru's rule are scattered all across the country. It also won't take long for Iwa to realize that Orochimaru's grip on Grass has slackened. We need to move fast and establish ourselves in that space. Otherwise the opportunity will be lost."

"Are you saying . . ."

"Uzumaki Naruto, you are now commanding officer of every shinobi within the borders of Grass Country. Your task is to establish a foothold and make sure that no power other than Konoha has access to this vital resource. Your squad will, of course, stay with you. More men are already at a suitable site for a stronghold, setting up camp to facilitate the transition. You will receive more detailed instructions tomorrow."

I looked at him full of wonder and horror, as though he was the first human being I had ever seen in my life. "My leave?"

"You have three days to get your affairs in order."

"But . . . three weeks. They said three weeks . . ."

"The situation has changed." He gave me a flinty look. "Hiruzen spoke highly of you. Prove him right and do Konoha proud, Uzumaki."

I stood rooted to the spot, and it took his grunted, "dismissed," before I found my way to the door.

I left the Hokage tower in a trance. Night had fallen already and a chilly breeze was tousling my hair. The half-moon above Konoha looked ready to fall and decapitate some poor sod.

I blinked. What the hell had just happened in there? How could a man go from commanding seven people to more than thirty times that in the span of fifteen minutes? The faraway bark of a dog broke me out of my stupor. I jumped off the street and hurtled across the rooftops. No one would stop me this time on my way to Hinata. And if Danzō himself got in my way, I'd barrel right through his arthritic carcass, the fallout be damned.

* * *

I had upgraded my apartment upon becoming a Jōnin. Higher ranks gave higher pay, even for easier missions. I had a solid track report with my neighbors, too. My landlord was a cantankerous windbag, but she liked money. There had been no trouble when I bought the second apartment next to the first and broke down the walls dividing them.

Money, respect, a nice place to come home to that wasn't empty: it was a life I had dreamed of as a kid, and through grit and tears I'd made it possible. When I landed on the street before my apartment complex, my head was spinning. Hinata was having our baby in there. I was actually about to become a father. The thought just seemed so unbelievable.

I raced up the stairs, taking two steps at a time, and hurried along the outside hallway to our apartment. The door opened, and Sakura peered outside.

"There you are," she said. "I sensed you down in the street. Your chakra is all over the place."

"Must be the excitement." I tried to glimpse past her into the dimly lit apartment. "Where is she? Is it over? Am I—"

"Follow me," Sakura said, leading the way.

I did, obedient like a dog and with the same bundle of unease and excitement in my stomach as an Academy student starting their first year. At the door to my bedroom Sakura gave me a look I couldn't quite interpret. It was gone a moment later. She held her finger to her lips and whispered, "They're asleep now, both of them. No mean feat for your daughter. She's got your lungs for sure."

Sakura gave me a tired smile. "I did all the regular procedures already. No need to worry—she's as healthy as can be. As is Hinata. You can go in, of course, but please let them rest. They did a lot of work today."

I hadn't made it in time, then. I had missed the first milestone in my daughter's life. I was still standing before the door, useless as a ramen cook in a sushi restaurant, when Sakura pushed me forward. "Go on in," she said, and I followed her command out of habit.

The room was quiet and dark and smelled of sweat. The blinds were raised, and the moonlight pasted a checkered motif on the parquet. My orange blanket was rising, lowering, then rising again. Nothing in that room could've reassured me more than Hinata's breathing. I stood listening to it, then padded over to the crib at the foot of the bed. All my shinobi instincts were working overtime to make sure I stayed quiet and undiscovered. I wasn't sure I could handle the little one waking up without Hinata there to help and introduce me.

Then my eyes found my daughter. She lay prone in the middle of the crib, and she was the tiniest thing I'd ever seen. Everything about her was small-sized, from the head to her curled stubs of fingers and the fuzz of bright hair that shone like silver in the moonlight. To everyone asking, I'd always answered that my girl would have no trouble later in life if only she got her qualities from her awesome mother. I'd be lying, though, if I denied my fist pump at the shade of her hair.

I reached into the crib, brushing my big, oafy finger across her tiny hand. This little thing was supposed to go out into the world on her own one day? I had a fist-sized sailor's knot in my chest at the thought. No way that would happen.

I'd never let her, or her mother, come to harm. And when all was said and done, both would be proud of me. They wouldn't ever regret belonging to this family. I had always been very particular about promises, but if ever there was one I intended to keep, it was this one.

* * *

I awoke to the chirping of birds, my head warm from the sun and the bed sheet under me full of slobber. The night before, I had settled down in a chair right next to the bed. I must have keeled right over some time afterwards, bedding myself in the most uncomfortable position known to man once the tiredness had kicked back in.

Still, I had earned the rest, and I was never above using weird positions to sleep. I kept my eyes shut, ignoring the soft breeze from the window. I inched my head away from the wet spot I had left on the sheet and gave a satisfied grunt. Sleep could take me once more.

"Take a good look at him. That's your papa."

Those words blew my eyes wide open. I sat ramrod straight in the chair. Hinata lay in the bed, her back propped against an army of cushions. Part of her dark-blue night gown was pushed aside. While Hinata was holding her close, Tiny took to her breast like I did to ramen. Her fingers lay flat on the breast as if to take hold, and her mouth went at a steady rate. Her eyes were a graceful violet shading into white at the edges. For all I could tell, she looked content.

"You're staring," Hinata said with a soft laugh.

"I can't help it."

I said nothing and looked at Hinata. So much had worn her down before: the field injury that took her right eye; Hiashi's subsequent order to stay in Konoha, and Hinata's demand that she be allowed my name should she comply; her decision to become a medic-nin equal to Sakura and Tsunade; the continued battle against the more stubborn part of the Hyūga . . . But all these things seemed not to burden her anymore. Right now, Hinata's smile wasn't one of determination to convince herself she could make it through hardship, or to cover up her unease, but a genuine one. It was a smile that went straight to her eyes and then filled the whole room.

I sat staring, my arms hanging uselessly down my sides. Then I pushed back the chair. It was time for introductions.

Hinata scooted over, and I climbed into the bed, lowering myself next to her. She had showered. The flowery smell of shampoo still clung to her hair. I took another look at Tiny, who was still feasting like a champion, then turned my head and kissed Hinata. I had waited four months to do that. If I had my way it would take equally long to end it.

"I missed you," she breathed around my lips.

I smiled into the kiss. "Same here, believe me."

Slowly, I tore myself away and regarded the hungry blond-fuzzed wonder in her arms. "She needs a name. I keep calling her Tiny in my head."

"I have a few suggestions, but have you thought of—"

There was a loud knock at the door to the apartment. A yawn came from the hallway, footfall, then the door jarred open. Sakura was speaking quietly to whomever was disturbing us. So she had slept over? It was good to know that she had my back. I'd make her a godmother, too. Still, I was surprised that Hinata had chosen Sakura to help her during the birth. As far as I knew, they really didn't speak that much on a day to day basis, not nearly as much as Sakura and I anyway. Hinata had gotten it on much better with Shizune, who had overseen her studies during the pregnancy. In fact, I had always thought Hinata disliked Sakura for some reason, but that just showed how wrong I got it when it came to reading the mind of a woman. Or you could chalk the decision up to pregnancy flightiness, if such a thing existed. Who knew?

Presently, when Sakura's voice got heated in the hallway, and bits and pieces like, "you really shouldn't," were flying around, I swung my legs out of the bed.

"I'll be back in a moment," I told Hinata. Whoever was interrupting this moment better had a damn good reason.

I walked into the hallway and narrowed my eyes at the masked shinobi on the doorsill. ANBU again. I had an inkling who was calling for me.

"Uzumaki-san," the ANBU said when I had pushed past Sakura, right up to him. He was taller than me by a good head, but I had never been embarrassed by having to glare up at authority. His breath quickened under the mask. Good. A newbie.

"What is it? Make it quick, man."

"The Hokage wishes for you to speak with Shikaku-san to go over the details for your upcoming mission."

"I haven't got the time now. Be a dear and tell him that I'll be over in an hour or so."

The guy's hand twitched—a miniscule motion, but it told me enough. He was gathering his courage. "To be frank, sir, this is a direct order from the Hokage. It isn't wise to delay."

I took another step—you couldn't have fit a kunai between us—and smiled up at him. "Listen. I'm in a good mood today and I know ANBU training is stressful, so I'll repeat what I said. Go to Shikaku-san and inform him that I'll come and talk everything over in an hour. Understood?"

He was hesitating, his breath becoming more rapid. His eyes were roaming around, looking for potential threats. His hands shook a little. Then he nodded abruptly and shunshined away.

"You didn't have to intimidate him," Sakura said, leaning against the doorframe. "I'm sure you could've talked him into your point of view."

"He's a rule guy. He would've followed me into my bedroom if I hadn't used it."

_It_ being a nifty trick Kakashi had shown Sakura and me shortly before he died a few years ago: a way to, let's say, disperse difficult situations. You flexed certain muscles quick enough to give the trained eye the impression of being attacked, without ever being really able to confirm it. Hard to see if you didn't know what to look for, but it drove you wild sure enough. And small wonder it did. After all, your instincts—honed over years of grueling work—suddenly told you that you were about to be ripped into like a log at a training ground. Bless Kakashi. He had always known best how to scare the living shit out of people.

"Do me a favor and make sure no one troublesome comes close to this place for the next hour, alright?"

Sakura raised an eyebrow. "Troublesome? You really do notice that Shikamaru's your second in command, you know? But sure. I'll . . . keep them away."

I nodded gratefully and went past her but then stopped in the hallway. "Your girl, by the way, Izuna—she's doing a good job. A bit nervous, but she's a good medic. Your teaching comes through."

Then I left for my bedroom. There was still a lot to be done. Naming Tiny for one. Holding her as well. The thought gave me a jolt, and I scratched my head as I moved back into the bedroom. I had to be really careful not to break her on accident.

* * *

Hours later, Shikaku had given me all the necessary information. I was leaving the barracks exhausted and firmly expecting to be left alone so I could spend time with my family. It had been quite a battle—Shikamaru's old man was surprisingly hard-headed—but at least my squad got to keep their three weeks off.

Hiashi had caught me outside the office, too. We had a quick talk about our mutual happiness, then the frowny face came back on, dripping gravitas. He asked me about my mission and how I was going to train my one day old daughter. When I told him the answer to both questions was classified he actually relented. He seemed the same Hiashi on the tin—old dogs and new tricks and all that—but in truth he'd grown more mild these days. Becoming a grandfather might do that to you. Before he went back to the compound, he gave me a nice box as a gift to honor my command, where I could store my important and official correspondence. I thanked him dutifully.

I nodded to the barrack guards as I passed them, glad to be out of that ugly place. It was where command—aside from Danzō—kept its headquarters. Shinobi could live there for next to nothing, which beat out rent prices big time. They called this hideous mix of wood and concrete The Plates because it looked like a stack of used dishes and was just as clean. Living there was as likely to give you a roof over your head as making you think of taking a knife to yourself.

Two of my squad were staying there during their off time. Both were saving up to get the hell away from it. Sometimes I tinkered with the mission reports to make their roles stand out, so that the dispensary gave them a little bonus. Shikamaru didn't like it—of course he had noticed the first time I did it—but I was usually quite good at dodging around when he wanted to talk it over. He was just afraid the Brass would notice and punish us. I thought they rather had more pressing matters to worry about.

Hands in my pockets, hitai-ate around my arm, I walked away from the barracks, down the streets of Konoha. I relaxed into the sunny noon as daylight was sluicing off that dreary atmosphere. Three days weren't much, true enough, but I'd be a damn idiot if I spent them whining. Hiashi had been right, though. I should talk things over with Hinata sooner rather than later.

I showed only the briefest of reactions when suddenly two people were escorting me as if they'd never been anywhere else. They were whistling, watching the few stalls still left with amusement.

"He twitched," Tsunade said.

"Told you he would," Jiraiya returned. "He's good, but not _that_ good." A sound-sealing bubble was building up around us. Jiraiya had shown me once, but it was fairly complicated. I had never bothered with it, going for flashier things instead.

I kept my eyes on the road home.

"We're here to get some gossip, kiddo." Jiraiya's booming voice made me vibrate right next to him, even though there was no point of contact between us but the ground. "So?" he asked. "What's her name? Who are her godparents? Come now, kiddo, don't be shy. Talk to us."

"Chie. Uzumaki Chie."

Tsunade snapped her fingers, but I sensed no money being exchanged. Both had lost their bet. Good.

"A good name," Jiraiya said. "And her godparents? Who is doing the honors?"

"Sakura and Shikamaru."

"Your second in command?" Tsunade asked. "Is that a good decision? You'll be together in the field . . ."

I glanced at her. "None of my shinobi will die. Shikamaru was Hinata's choice, by the way." And I stood fully behind her on that. On the campaign that took Hinata's eye, she would've lost much more if not for him. I had no doubt that if anyone came even close to harming Chie, Shikamaru would devise a million ways to put that guy into a world of misery.

"Are they together? Shikamaru and Sakura?" Tsunade asked.

"Not that I know of," I said. We walked another half minute in silence, then I stopped in the middle of the street. "You're more than welcome to visit us and get to know Chie. But I know you're here to talk shop, so spill it, I want to get back with my family. What's going on? What do you want with me?"

I had the unpleasant experience of being dragged into a shunshin. Coming out of it, I found myself standing in a room next to a flat table and cushions. The paper walls around us had been drawn shut. Three bottles of sake stood on the table, each with its own complementary cup. A lantern with the number six stenciled on it hung suspended above us, spreading a warm red light. You wouldn't have been able to tell the time of day outside. This could have been just as much the inside of a slug or toad as an inn.

"Sit down," Jiraiya said, giving my shoulder a hearty slap. "There's cause to celebrate, and just one way to do it right." He took to his side of the table, already in the process of stuffing his pipe.

"I really don't think I should right now," I said, still standing. "I have to get back—"

"Jiraiya's right," Tsunade said. "Sit down. You're getting an invitation from two of the Sannin. That ought to count for something, don't you think? Besides, it's not often that shinobi get to have their wish in so many different ways." She poured the first round of cups and toasted to me. She refilled them immediately after throwing back her head.

I sank into the pillow. What had I missed? This celebration, nice as it was, struck me as odd, and very secretive at that. I wasn't planning on drinking much, but I took my cup regardless. Maybe it loosened up my brain enough to make me see—sometimes you had to join them, in order to understand the world from their perspective. Which was beside the fact that they had me deadly curious.

"To Chie," I said, raising my cup. _This one's for you, Tiny_.

"To Chie," they repeated.

We slammed back our cups. Tsunade refilled, shooting Jiraiya a hooded look that set me on guard. I smiled at them. "Let's go around. Who's next in line?"

Tsunade shrugged. "I'll do it." She lifted her cup. "To your promotion!"

It was costing me precious time with Hinata and Chie, but I could toast to that readily enough. Another row of cups was duly chugged, and soon again refilled. Jiraiya came next, and he was gazing at me like a hungry animal. I was sure by now they had another bet going, but what about I couldn't say for the life of me.

"To your future!" Jiraiya said, his eyes never straying from mine.

They tipped back their cups. I raised an eyebrow. "That's not very specific, is it? Don't get me wrong, I'm honored that you've invited me to this little gathering. But if there's something you want to tell me, there are easier ways."

"He doesn't know," Tsunade said with a self-satisfied tone.

Jiraiya exhaled noisily. "Goddamn, kiddo, can't you use your brain for once?" Disgruntled, he handed Tsunade a satchel. She had won the bet, then. Interesting. Jiraiya leaned forward. "You've been to Danzō's office, haven't you? Noticed anything strange there?"

I hadn't had much chance to think that night over, since most of my thoughts had been centered around my family—and wasn't that a nice thing to say? I got all warm and fuzzy just thinking it. But, to the matter at hand, there had been something off about Danzō, yes. "Now that you mention it . . . He was injured, and sick." A bed full of seals, talking to me in a white robe, his hand thin as a stick, blue-veined and looking like decay itself. "Quite severely at that," I continued. "He is one of our strongest shinobi—the Godaime to boot. Who could have . . ." Then it hit me. I was a fool for not having thought of it earlier. Danzō had told me outright, after all. "Orochimaru?" I asked, incredulous. Their faces told me I was right. "Is he dead for good then?"

"As far as we know," Tsunade said. "Neither my slugs nor any of Jiraiya's toads have heard or seen a sign of Orochimaru since then. And believe us, we looked everywhere. So it does look like Danzō snuffed him out." That gave me a whole lot more respect for Danzō all of a sudden. No wonder Grass was suddenly up for grabs. He had made it so.

Jiraiya reclined into the pillow. Smoke curled atop his pipe, filling the room with the aroma of wood and spices. "I'm curious. What do you think your promotion is about?"

I shrugged. "Compensation for a dangerous mission. We didn't get everything, but all things considered we did reasonably well, what with Rōshi being there. Isn't that the way it usually goes?"

Tsunade topped up her cup, drank, and repeated the process. Her cheeks had a deep flush going, but her eyes were still sharp. "He's not getting it, Jiraiya. Let's tell him and get drunk. I'm tired of this game."

Jiraiya chuckled. "If you want to, sure. It doesn't seem like we're getting anywhere like this."

"It would help if you two were less cagey about things." The guessing game was starting to tick me off something fierce. I had enough on my plate already without all this secrecy. "Get to it, or I'm gone. I've only got three days."

The corner of Jiraiya's mouth twitched. I worried he'd play more games, but then he thought better of it and nodded. "Alright, alright, keep your hat on. Or rather, try a new one out for size. It's nothing to be angry about, just the office of Hokage up for consideration. No biggie."

He had me. Worse, he knew it. I leaned across the table, barely noticing how Tsunade rescued a bottle from my sudden movement. "Say that again."

He tried looking solemn, but he couldn't contain the smile, despite his morbid message. "Tsunade did everything she could, but it's only a matter of time until Danzō dies. Whatever poison Orochimaru used before meeting the Shinigami is beyond the realm of our knowledge. Danzō knows it, too, and he's looking for a suitable replacement. Think about it. You're an accomplished shinobi, but commanding a whole front? That's a steep climb, wouldn't you say? He's testing you out. He wants to know if you have it. As far as vetting processes go, that's fairly standard."

"Not just you, though," Tsunade said, looking at me over the edge of her cup. "There's going to be a change in leadership at the front between Water and Lightning as well. Depending on how you two fare, he'll make his decision. In any case, Danzō wants someone young to energize the troops. A figure they can look up to—not unlike the Yondaime. Usually he's more conservative with such matters. But as far as I can see, he's banking on the fact that, even if you become Hokage, you'll heed the counsel you'll get from old-timers like Shikaku and us."

I would. Probably. Maybe. "Are you drinking like that because you're celebrating, or because you're pissed you couldn't heal him?"

Tsunade's scrunched-up face told me the answer. In his dying moments Orochimaru had gotten one over her, after all.

"Likely both," Jiraiya answered in Tsunade's stead, ignoring her glare. "We don't particularly like Danzō, but our animosity doesn't stretch far enough to celebrate his death. Mind you, I won't shed a tear either. I don't think many people will."

" Who's the second person being tested? Who's my competition?"

"Aburame Shino," Tsunade said. "He was a classmate of yours, right?"

"Shino, huh? Haven't heard that name in a while . . ."

I was still close enough to kiss Jiraiya, so I settled back down. My thoughts were whirling about like threads tied to a spinning top. Could this be it? After all these years, had I really made it far enough to be considered? I reached for the sake nestled in Tsunade's arms and took a deep draft right from the bottle. I wiped my mouth and stared up at the lantern, on which the number six was proudly displayed.

Uzumaki Naruto, Rokudaime. It had a nice ring to it.

* * *

Chapter End


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **Everything belongs to Masashi Kishimoto.

* * *

**Rokudaime**

Chapter 3

* * *

"They have no right to take away your time with us." Hinata's whisper was barely audible, even though I stood right in front of her. Gaze glued to the floor, face shaded by bangs—this wasn't the expression I'd wanted to see after months away from home.

The bright afternoon sun came streaming in through the window of our living room, tinting my ratty sofa a more appreciable color. A breeze rustled the new curtains Hinata had bought while I had been on duty. Chie was asleep in her crib. We had just come back from a stroll in the park nearby. It might not have been the best moment to tell her that I'd be gone in two days' time, but I didn't want to push it away until the last evening.

I was searching for words, though nothing I came up with fit. I knew where she was coming from, and my time with her and Chie _was_ precious. Yet so was the dream I had held for so long finally being in reach. If I could make it a reality quicker, so that Chie could be proud of her pops, then I'd do everything in my power to that end.

Hinata still wasn't looking at me. When I noticed her faint trembling, I raised my arms to gather her up in them. I needed her warmth to reassure me I wasn't just being an idiot.

The moment I came closer, she move over toward the door. "I . . . I just need a moment to think. I'll be back in an hour."

Her retreat was hasty and clumsy. She was still quite a bit larger than usual. When she almost slipped getting into her sandals, my arm did its pitiful dance upward again; a few seconds later the gravel crunched on the road below our apartment.

I stood next to the empty sofa. The room looked much bleaker without her.

Shaking my head, I trudged over to Chie's crib, which was shaded from the sun. I turned one of the chairs around and sat down, staring at her tiny belly rising and falling.

"I have no idea if I'm doing the right thing here," I whispered to her. "Your mama probably believes I'm an idiot right now. I hope she gets back soon. I want to spend what little time I've got left here with you two . . . I won't . . . I can't—" I ended on a sigh. Back in my Academy and Genin days doing and saying the right thing had been much easier. I might not always have been a tasteful speaker, but at least I was an honest one, who knew what was good and what bad within an instant, and wasn't afraid to say so.

I brushed my fingers over the golden fuzz on Chie's head. "I'll make you proud, girl, that's a promise. The only one I can give right now. You'll have the strongest pops there is, just like I had. And together we'll be the greatest at whatever we do, cause that's the Uzumaki way, eh?" I smiled at her, then leaned back in the chair. The birdsongs kept coming in through the window, and the mild afternoon heat soon lulled me into sleep.

My dream was indistinct. The waking not so much. Pots clanged in the kitchen, glassware tinkled, a sizzling went along with the quick, skillful _tack-tack-tack _of a knife on a chopping board. I stretched, reassured myself that Chie was still there, then followed the smell of food.

Hinata stood in front of the stove in her favorite orange apron, cooking up a storm the likes I hadn't seen in a while. Little pans, large pans, a board here, a board there, at least two pots and a bowl with already prepared vegetables: it was a different battlefield to what I was used to. She navigated it tirelessly, though, her hair done in a lazy bun that went halfway down her neck and was held together artfully by a few needles.

It seemed like a monstrous effort for someone who had given birth only a day before. She had such a look of fierce determination about her as she tasted the soup in one of the pots, I had to stop uncomfortably at the doorsill and tug at my pants to cover my growing erection. The scene before me had my mind going to a thousand places. If it weren't for her razor-sharp focus and our argument before, I might have considered trying for a sibling for Chie right then and there. I had no idea if that was even possible this soon after giving birth, but I was more than willing to experiment.

I stood watching her for a few minutes until, in a brief lull of action, she turned and arched her eyebrow, nodding at my crotch. Of course she had noticed. I was glad her eye was sparking with mischief, though, and not anger or sadness.

Were things good between us now? I had no clue.

"It will be another hour until dinner," she said, arms crossed. The wooden spoon in her left was dribbling miso on the tiled floor. "Are you going to watch me the whole time?"

"Maybe."

"I won't be able to focus on the cooking."

"That's fair. I won't either."

It brought a smile to her lips. And wasn't that just the best feeling ever, getting your girl's face to shine like that?

"Go on and do something else until dinner is ready," she said. "I won't have all the groceries go to waste because I wasn't paying attention. Play with Chie, take her out and get some fresh air. Just take care that she's not directly exposed to the sun."

"I like it when you're being commanding."

Aha! There it was again, that brief flicker of naughtiness. Then it was gone, and she pointed with the spoon at the kitchen door. I grinned and obediently took my leave. Things seemed to be alright between us.

I went over to the crib, where Chie lay awake, her lavender eyes tracking me. I suddenly felt exposed. "Hullo. How are you?" She didn't answer, but when I reached into the crib she let out a blubber of laughter and took a hold of my finger. "Okay, girl, this'll be new for both of us. I know you've been with your mom so far, but now it's daddy's turn." Whispering to myself I added, "And hopefully he won't mess this up."

I gathered my courage and then took her with both hands, holding her up to my face. We looked at each other as if we were deciding whether we actually belonged together. I could have sunken right into her eyes. They were so much like her mother's. Then Chie flailed her little arms around, first patting me on the cheek, afterwards giving me a solid conk on the nose.

"That's right," I said quietly so Hinata wouldn't overhear. "Just like that, girl. You're already punching like an Uzumaki. Wait until you're a bit older—you'll kick ass from here to Lightning." As if to prove me right, she flailed more, connecting another solid hit. I chuckled as I prepared for the next battle, getting her rolled up tight in a nice blanket before taking her outside. It was already evening and the sun was almost gone by now, so that at least was one worry less.

After Hinata had come bursting out of the kitchen, showing me how to hold Chie, I took her to the place with the greatest view in all of Konoha. The evening sun was just done vanishing behind the staggered line of roofs and trees when I landed on my father's stony hair.

"It doesn't look like much now, but give it a moment. You'll see what I mean," I said to Chie, lightly pushing at her nose with my finger. I sat down on one of the bangs, scooted to its edge, and let my legs dangle from each side, holding Chie in an iron grip.

It took another ten minutes for the last vestige of sunlight to fade. Then, one by one, in a cascade of flickering colors, the evening lights of the city came alive: lamps in houses, shining with a warm glow; streetlights, one by the other, with their pale light smearing yellow circles on the street; red and orange lampions at the entry to restaurants and brothels swaying in the wind; signs over bars in violet and green buzzing their way to life. I had loved this sight as a boy. I loved it as a man. The streets were much emptier now, but a time would come when they were teeming again.

Chie took to the view with gurgling noises, and I told her about a few of the places lit up down below us, and how I had pranked the living daylights out of them. "I'll have to tone it down, though. Your pops has got to be a respectable man now, so you won't get into trouble because of me. And because they probably won't give me the Hat otherwise. But mark my words, girl, once I'm sitting in that chair, I'll give them a prank like the world has never seen. They won't be able to stop me then."

"For that you will have to become the Hokage first, Naruto."

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't startled. But even though I had been so focused on Chie that I missed Shino's approach, experience had taught me to take things in stride. I rose to my feet, Chie wiggling in her blanket, and leapt to the base of my father's hair.

Shino was waiting, hands stuffed in his pockets, the collar of his coat raised to his ears. He wore his sunglasses, though his hair was short-cropped now. It looked like an effort to regrow it, which meant it had either been sheared or burnt off. He had grown bulkier, too, filling out the coat, and a set of fine scars criss-crossed over his brow and the upper part of his cheek.

"It's good seeing you, man," I said. "It's been a while."

"You as well, Naruto. Is this your daughter?"

"Yeah." I held her forward proudly. "Uzumaki Chie."

"You have chosen wisely." There was a hint of a smile beneath Shino's collar. I cuddled Chie back to my chest. Shino held out his arm. A bug was wandering along the knuckles of his fist. "May I?"

"Is it safe?"

Shino nodded. "We offer these services to all of Konoha. It is nothing to worry about." That was enough for me. He might have become my rival overnight, but I still trusted him. The bug lifted off and landed right on Chie's nose. Her eyes grew big like balloons, and at first I thought everything was alright. Then her face scrunched up. She squeezed her eyes shut, her little chest filled with air, and she let out a bellow of a cry that would be heard in all of Konoha.

Oh boy. Sakura was right—Chie definitely had my lungs.

In the meantime Shino's bug had lifted off again, making off to god knows where. I was cradling Chie, saying nonsense words, doing all I could think of to make her stop wailing.

In between the cooing, I glared at Shino. "You made her cry."

"Babies do that, Naruto. Sometimes it happens, sometimes it doesn't. The benefits far outweigh the costs in this analysis." He held up his hand where the bug was sitting placidly. "I will bring this to the Aburame stocks. Should Chie get lost or be abducted within the next ten years, any Aburame will be able to track and find her."

I knew that he was right. On a more visceral level though, he had made my girl cry, and for that I wanted to punch him and break his sunglasses in half.

"Thanks," I said, clipped, as Chie's wailing was starting to cease. Better get her home soon. I straightened my shoulders, thinking that I should speed up the no doubt business-related part of this visit. "You been to Danzō's yet?"

"He does not seem to be healthy, but I assume you know as much. My estimate is about four months to half a year, then he will die, leaving open the position of Rokudaime."

Blunt and to the point. I was warming up to this again. "I won't give up the Hat, Shino. You know I won't. It's been my dream for as long as I can remember."

He raised a brow as if to question why I had even gone to the trouble of stating something this obvious. His face remained calm, though, and impersonal as an undisturbed lake.

"Since my father's death I have become the head of the Aburame clan," he said. "It is long overdue that one of my people tries to attain a higher position of leadership within the village. The elders will rule whether I am the right man for this office or not, but I am going to make an honest attempt and, how would you say it, _give it my damn best shot_. If you are my rival in this, any feelings of friendship must fall to the wayside."

I had heard the story of Aburame Shibi's death coursing around the fires. He and his scouts had been observing a large troop movement of Lightning's finest when the Raikage appeared in their midst. The stories vary from there, but most agree that Shibi was the only reason half the squad got away alive. Details were blurry beyond that one thing: his sacrifice had bought Konoha enough time to position themselves for a counter attack. Aburame Shibi's was another name for a stone that held too many of them already.

"I was sorry to hear about your dad, Shino. He was very brave."

"He was," Shino said. "But I have been working through it. Logic shows a clear path forward."

I smiled sadly. "I guess it does, doesn't it?" I could see his path clearly as well: the horror, the grief, then having to step into his father's footsteps without delay. Now he didn't just have a clan to command, but also one to convince of himself as their leader. Of course he'd take an opportunity when it arose before him. If he became the Rokudaime, he would show his people that he was no less man than Shibi, while proving to himself that his father's trust and love hadn't been misplaced. I wasn't unfamiliar with thoughts of that kind, though Shino had arrived at them in a much more orderly way, I was sure.

Asuma, Kakashi, Sasuke, now Shino . . . if asked to—and no one ever would—after a few bottles of sake all of them could've sung songs about family legacies as likely to crush you as to raise you up. Though, arguably, you'd have needed more than a few bottles to convince some of them to sing.

I shifted Chie in my arms. It was getting darker, and Hinata would have food on the table soon. The little one was getting unruly, too. I wanted to have her back in her crib.

"I'll have to cut this short here, Shino. I've got a feeling that Chie is getting hungry."

"Give Hinata my regards. It has been a while since we last saw each other."

"Will do. And . . . Shino, no matter the outcome, fair's fair, right?"

"There will be no hard feelings."

"Good," I said. "Best of luck then. Can't have the cloud dwellers laughing at us, eh?"

He took a shallow bow. As I watched him go to the edge of the monument, then leap into the night, I wasn't so sure if there wouldn't be hard feelings after all. But that was a problem for another time. Right now all I had to do was get Chie home. Things seemed to have worked out with Hinata. I wasn't sure the same could be said if we came late for dinner.

I was about to set off, when Chie conked me again. Laughing, I said, "No worries, girl. You'll see your mommy soon enough," before leaping into the darkness, not quite able to keep the thoughts of my upcoming command off my mind. They weren't unlike flour mites. Once you had them in your pantry, they wouldn't leave you the hell alone.

* * *

The night was unbearably hot. I had kicked away my blanket half an hour ago, first to the edge of the bed, then off it in contempt. The ineffectiveness of the move annoyed me, since sweat kept springing up all over my body regardless. Outside, cicadas were giving the concert of their lives. If I didn't know better I'd think this was an orchestrated conspiracy to keep me awake.

I turned my head to Hinata. She was sleeping on my outstretched arm, facing me. I studied her, from the strands of dark hair curling around her ears to the curve of her nose, then the lightly parted lips and the scarred flesh around her right eye. Now that she had told me in no unclear terms that she was in no condition for sex, I wanted it more—if that was even possible for a shinobi coming back to his wife after going months without.

My stomach gurgled and I turned away again, staring at it across my chest. Dinner had been too delicious. I'd always been a strong eater . . . this, though . . . this had been Chōji-style gluttony. But first and foremost love went through your stomach, so if the wife cooked up a storm you damn well ate it all. And I did. And now I suffered. But no one ever said love was easy.

The worst part about being awake at night was that my thoughts had enough room to exist in that space between action and sleep. Chie, Danzō, my squad, Hinata, Chie again, Shikamaru, Hinata, Shino, old man Sarutobi, Jiraiya and Tsunade, Rōshi, Chie: round and round it went, a wheel of thoughts—some pleasant, some less so—that wasn't likely to stop spinning anytime soon. Lately it had become much harder to sleep like a rock and simply declare myself the best of the world come morning.

A tiny snore escaped Hinata and drew my eyes back to her. Would I have felt better had she torn into me for being away so soon? Her kind approach was making me feel bad on the double. Worse, she was too kind to calculate such an effect, which made me feel even guiltier. Then again, was I the one at fault? It was Danzō's order after all . . . Though I couldn't say that I disliked the order itself now, could I? For the first time in my life, my dream was actually coming into reach.

In the end, even though I felt guilty, I was glad Hinata had worked through the issue with so little complaint. Over dinner she'd told me a lot about her training with Shizune, and how she had access to both the standard records and the Hyūga archives, which, with more experience, would make her one of the most efficient medic-nin alive when it came to treating chakra-related diseases. I'd had no idea about half of what Hinata was saying, but her eyes had been glowing and I could've listened to her speak for hours. Her passion turned me on.

That was the thing. My apartment with her and Chie in it, happy laughter, cooking, the new curtains, the door placard that showed both our names . . . I wanted to have as much of that as I could before going back to the front—clean memories I could come back to when the goings got tough out there . . .

All this thinking was getting me nowhere, though, so I slowly extricated my arm from under her head, then padded over to the crib, reassuring myself Chie was still asleep. I got my clothes from the wardrobe and put them on in the kitchen where I was sure not to wake anyone up. The wind chimes danced around outside the window. Some wind might cool me down, and a night stroll through Konoha hadn't ever hurt anybody.

I didn't even get to the door before Hinata had noticed I was gone. She stood in the hallway, tying her white night robe. Her hair fell down her shoulders in long, chaotic strands, like ink spattered on the fabric.

"Hey," I said. "Sorry for waking you. I just wanted to go for a walk. The heat is insane."

"You've been bothered by it the whole night," she said, going past me into the kitchen.

"You noticed, huh?"

I heard the faucet squeal, followed by running water. When I came into the kitchen, Hinata handed me a glass. "Of course I did," she said softly, sitting down and turning on the light by the kitchen table.

I didn't know what to make of this situation. Here I stood, a glass of water in my hand. There she sat, barely blinking while looking at me in silence. No reproach or anger in her eye, but I could tell she was troubled.

I chose to keep my memories peaceful and intact. This way was better for all of us to deal with the situation.

I guzzled down the water, put the glass on the tabletop, and said, "I'll better be on my way now, get me some of that sweet wind outside. Maybe it'll make the sweat go away. Thanks for the water."

I wheeled around, about to make a hurried escape, when her voice turned my legs into clumps of lead.

"I'm sorry," she said. I heard the chair scrape over the tiles as she got to her feet, and the sound of her slippers as she walked up to me. I turned. "I'm sorry," she said again when she stood right in front of me, angling her head up. Her look was as far away from calm as it could possibly be. "I tried. I . . . please, believe me, Naruto, I really did. I tried to make it perfect and to cook and to laugh, and to . . . to say nothing about it. I didn't want to make things difficult just for my sake. And I know it's selfish to do it now . . . I can't stand it because I know you want us all to be happy, but we _have_ to talk, _I_ have to talk, because I think I'm going to explode if you just leave like this." Her shoulders were shaking. The last part had come out in a swell of words that left me speechless.

I wanted to say something, anything, but before I could, she continued, her voice gaining strength: "Of course we might not find a solution for anything. I know you can't just go to Danzō and tell that . . . that miserable old man where to stick it. And of course I don't want to keep you from your dream either. You know that! I would never want to be the reason for you to stop smiling. But at least we have to talk." There was a fierceness in her eyes. "You can't just . . . you can't just go away without saying anything, thinking that nothing will change. That's running away, Naruto. You're not a coward. I know you're not."

Hinata stood with her hand on my chest. The way my heart was pounding against my ribcage, I was surprised she didn't already hold it in her palm. She was right, though. I had done my very best to push all of this as far away as possible. She wasn't crying. But she wasn't far off either. Another step toward the door was all it would take. What a chump I was, eh? making a classy girl like her tear up. The lump in my throat made it hard to say anything, but at least I knew I wouldn't go over to that door if it killed me right now.

I had to take away some of the gloom. We would talk now, and I would do my damn hardest to take away whatever worry she had. A change of mood was in order before that, though. If ever there was a time and a place for an Uzumaki special, it was this moment.

I picked her up, ignoring her surprised yelp, and carried her through the hallway.

"What are you—"

"Shh," I said, carrying her past our bedroom. "Chie's sleeping. And we, Hinata, are going to have a talk." I pushed open the door to the living room. "Only not in the kitchen, but somewhere more comfortable."

Hinata fell silent until I deposited her on the sofa. I went and closed the door, turned on some of the lights, and then plopped down right next to her. I put my arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer. So, that hadn't been so bad, right? I still had no idea what to say exactly, but she wasn't trembling anymore—a step in the right direction if nothing else. Emboldened, I took a shot in the dark.

"I know it'll be difficult being the only one here for Chie," I said, actually feeling some bitterness well up at the thought. "And you've still got your apprenticeship with Shizune and the Hyūga business to take care off on the side and stuff, and I'm . . . I guess what I'm saying is that I'm really sorry I put all this pressure on you and have you bear it alone. It's not fair, and—"

She stiffened in my arm and I stopped talking. I didn't know how, but what little I said had ruined it again already.

"It's not about having to bear a burden," she said. "Chie isn't a burden, with or without you here. It's not about that at all."

"Then what is it about?"

"You."

I was glad for having sat down, because her answer made me stop breathing for second. Me? Had I done something? Does she mean I could've done more against Danzō? A flush crept up my face. I knew that feeling of being accused of something and having done nothing wrong. It threw me back to my childhood, and I didn't like that one bit. While she stood and walked over to the window, first looking outside, then at me, I leaned back into the sofa, crossing my arms. There was a lack of warmth where her body had been.

I was quiet, waiting for her to talk. And talk she did, after looking at me a long time, with a gaze that wasn't unfriendly but that I nevertheless couldn't account for. What did she mean by '_you_'?

"Shikamaru and Subaru have been writing me while you were away," she said, lowering herself on the mobile heater in front of the window. "Independently of one another. Though I think Subaru's was more of a courtesy letter because he's a Hyūga serving under my husband."

"Good of them to write." I would talk with both of them once we met up again, sure as sunrise. I wasn't a great writer, so my letters to Konoha were nonexistent. That they had written her was souring me quite a bit.

Hinata sighed. "You're angry."

"I'm not," I shot back.

She puffed out her cheeks and gave me a disbelieving look. "Uzumaki Naruto, sometimes you're as stubborn as a mule. Of course you're angry—even though it's nothing to be angry about." Then, as if embarrassed by her outburst, she added quietly, "When I said you, I meant that I don't worry about Chie, _but about you_. You want to protect everyone, I know, especially because of Kakashi, but please . . . please protect yourself too. I couldn't stomach it if you were . . ." She paused, closed her eyes for a moment, and continued, "I want Chie to have a father growing up, even if he can't be here all the time."

Ah. So I had ticked all the wrong boxes in my mind and arrived at entirely the wrong conclusion. I ignored the sting I felt at the mention of Kakashi and got up. I reached for her hand and pulled her away from the turned-off heater, back to me. As if that thing could ever be more efficient at warming her. "There's no reason to worry about me like that," I said. "I've been trained by the best Konoha has to offer. I'm surrounded by capable shinobi all the time. And I'm a Jinchūriki. Really, Hinata, ever since the Tenmen Treaty the attack to take me out has to be invented first."

I brushed my thumb across her cheek, but she pulled back again. "I know what I read," she said. "And I know what I heard in Konoha. It's not just the rumors and legends that are springing up. I've lost count of the amount of people thanking me on the streets because you saved their sons and daughters, parents, or even grandparents. My heart stops every time they talk to me, Naruto. Every time. They're smiling when they shake my hand, but all I can think of is that you had to be in another life-threatening position to save their family. And then there are the letters. Subaru's are full of praise—he writes them because he knows the Hyūga elders will read them as well—but Shikamaru is worried about you. _I_ am worried about you."

"I'll need to have a talk with him, then."

Half a year of marriage, and that was the first time she hit me in any way. It was only a feeble and frustrated slap to the chest, but coming from Hinata it might as well have been a row of knuckles in my face. "You're not listening!" she said. "He's only doing what a good friend does. He's trying to help you."

He was, yes, and the last time I accepted his help, changing up what I thought was the right approach, I'd had a bitch of a time getting out of the hole against Rōshi because I'd had to care for a knocked-out team member. It was sheer dumb luck that Haru hadn't died that day. Had I been slower by a fraction of a second, he would've been a goner for sure.

"What am I supposed to do, start letting people die?" I said. "You shouldn't put too much into Shikamaru's letters, Hinata. He's a worrywart out on the field, who tends to exaggerate. Always has been. There's really nothing to be concerned about."

"That's a lie, and you know it. Do you think I haven't seen your injuries? The scars? I'm a medic-nin, Naruto. You were littered with them. You didn't even wake up while I treated the worst ones, _the ones that would have woken everyone else_." Her tone grew heated towards the end. "Please don't lie to me and tell me the front will be safe." She pointed at the scarred flesh around her missing eye. "I've been there. I know it won't be."

She had treated my injuries? I had felt noticeably lighter after waking up, true enough, but I had attributed that to natural healing. I stared at her. If I had been asleep, then she must have done it barely a few hours after the delivery. And since Sakura hadn't thrown me any angry looks, Hinata must've done it in secret. Why, though, I couldn't say.

I said, "You should've rested . . ."

"That's not the point!"

She slapped my chest again. If it weren't such a bad moment, it'd be kind of cute. As things stood, all I had were layers of frustration, one stacked upon the other like empty ramen cups.

"What do you want me to do? You said it yourself, I can't just go to Danzō and tell him to take a bender." And even if that were possible, how could I, now that the Hat was finally in reach? "For better or worse I'm going to Grass and make it ours. I can't change course now."

"Promise."

"What?"

She clawed both hands into my shirt, dragging us closer together. She looked up at me with such strong emotions it struck me dumb. "Promise that you won't die."

All my life I had made it my personal code that a promise given is a promise kept. I wouldn't be half of who I was had I gone back on the things I said I'd do. But how could I promise _that_? And at the same time, how could I _not_ promise that after I saw her worry? Especially now that I had described myself as nearly immortal, while painting Shikamaru as an old lady with too many complaints to count them all. How the hell would I look to her if I backtracked now?

I had boxed myself in masterfully. And when the words passed my lips at last, it was the first promise in my life that I was unsure about. I didn't know if Hinata sensed this as I spoke, but it wouldn't surprise me.

She had always known me better than I knew myself.

* * *

The following day was tense. We spent our time together with Chie without ever talking of our conversation the night before. But neither of us had forgotten, and the realization that we'd soon be separated put a damper on the mood, no matter how bright the sun shone, or how beautifully the birds were trilling.

When we were with Chie, all our attention was focused on her. Once we were alone, though, our talks felt forced. We had silently resolved not to bring it up again, and we kept to that line, even though it made our conversation veer into directions of no interest to anyone. I had as little sympathy for the rising prices of milk and butter as Hinata, true enough, but I could've gone entire lifetimes without ever discussing them in detail.

On the family photo we took that day, we wore big smiles and looked at each other lovingly and carefree, as if nothing had nor ever would trouble our family. We were shinobi, though. It was our job to make our faces different than our hearts, and it cheapened the photo a great deal. I'd take it with me still, because I had no other of them, but I'd take a new one the moment this cloud had dispersed.

Cruel as it sounded, towards the end of that day I found myself looking forward to the campaign. I'd miss Hinata and Chie, horribly so, but military life was easier. You knew what you had to do. Take this position, torch these supplies, find that information, don't die, never let anyone else die. As a shinobi I had found success with these few rules, despite their being as simple as breaking chopsticks apart.

Eventually there came the time to leave. In the crisp early morning Hinata and I stood on the bridge before the western gate, which was as heavily guarded as any other gate these days. The Bochi River ran quietly under our feet, coming from the spring within the Hokage monument, then cutting straight to the cemetery before looping around Konoha and past the training grounds. Most of the cemetery was hidden by trees, but when the boughs tossed in the wind I saw the outer edges of the flame-like stone that we called the Heart of Fire. No matter where you were in that place, looking toward the center you would see it, pulsing red from the sunlight as if it were beating and keeping the dead alive. I always wondered if Kakashi and Jiji were watching me from there. Or if my parents did.

Since Danzō would see me off as well, we left Chie with Hiashi for the time being. There was no need for my little girl to see something as ugly as Danzō before also having witnessed the wonders of the world. That would only turn her into a cynic.

Hinata was quiet. We weren't holding hands. There was a distance between us as we waited for Danzō, looking out along the river, watching it curl around the Forks, a triplet of prong-like rocks that were remnants from a training session gone awry decades ago.

A shift in the air announced Danzō's arrival. Hinata and I turned away from the river and found him a couple feet away from us, standing straight, two ANBU close behind him. Gone was the hospital garb, replaced by pristine red-and-white. He leaned only marginally on his cane, all in all a figure of dignity and pride. Windows along the riverside were opening at the spectacle, heads leaning out as the curious onlookers took in their Hokage.

He did a good job hiding his condition. The shaking wouldn't be visible to anyone but those right in front of him, the stick-like, varicose arm only known to those who had seen it outside of the long sleeves of his robes. If Konoha at war was a rickety boat, then that cane for sure was the rudder. And Danzō clung to it like a man possessed, trying to hold himself up while also steering us forward. But give a man enough incentive, and he'll summon a demon to appear strong to others.

"Have you set everything in order, Uzumaki?"

"As much as I could in three days."

Danzō ignored the jab. "The troops I sent before you should have prepared a suitable base of operation by now. With them you should be able to solidify our position in Grass. More troops will join up with you shortly, your team among them. You will have to make do with those men, however. They are all Konoha can spare these days." He paused, his eyes flickering along the river. "I am sure Hiruzen will be smiling on you during this mission. To see you with real responsibility was a long-held dream of his. Make Konoha proud, Uzumaki. Make him proud."

I snorted. Maybe I shouldn't have, given that Danzō would decide who gets to wear the Hat after him, but I couldn't help it. That Danzō himself wasn't the best at giving motivational speeches gave me some comfort. "With all due respect, sir, there's no need to invoke the Sandaime every time you speak to me. He's not a motivational tool. I'll do my job and won't bungle it, and that's that."

He shrugged, unashamed. The wistful sheen in his eyes hardened back to its former cold gray. "If you say so, Uzumaki. In that case there is nothing left to talk about. Make sure this becomes a successful campaign." He hit the ground with the butt of his cane, no doubt heard by every onlooker. An ANBU covertly touched his shoulder, then all three shunshined away. A show front to back. That was alright, though. He kept the boat from capsizing. I'd be an ungrateful bastard not to be thankful for that much at least.

The bridge was empty again but for me and Hinata. We stood across each other silently, and for all I wanted to say, all that needed to be said, my lips stayed sealed.

Eventually Hinata stepped up to me and took one of my hands into hers without meeting my eyes.

"Hinata . . ."

She shook her head before looking up at me. Her hands were trembling around my ungainly paw. She was holding it together, barely.

"Hinata—" I began again, but her grip on my hand became so tight that I stopped myself from saying anything else.

"You promised," she said.

That was all. Those words hanging between us, she let go of my hand and left me alone on the bridge, leaving with hurried steps. I heard no sobs or anything, but my sight had always been good, and I had seen the shimmering in her eye when she'd turned. Before long she was out of sight, vanishing into the rows of houses.

I had made my girl cry after all, and she hadn't even been able to stomach crying in front of me.

I ran my hand through my hair and stared up at the sun, which bore down on me with Konoha's usual summer heat. How's that for an Uzumaki, huh? I might become the Rokudaime soon enough, but I sure as hell couldn't recall another time where I had felt as useless.

When I left through the gate to assume my command, the Chūnin on guard duty sent me off with warm smiles and good-natured wishes for success. That day I envied those bastards more than I had ever anyone else in my life.

* * *

Chapter End


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **Everything belongs to Masashi Kishimoto.

* * *

**Rokudaime**

Chapter 4

* * *

"We have cleared most of the rubble away, sir." Miko's voice was firm. She was a Chūnin, about sixteen, and fresh in the game. "Barring any unforeseen events, this should have been the last chamber. As you can see, it has been damaged quite heavily . . . I don't know if we can make any use of the equipment."

So far she'd done a bang up job of hiding the horror any sane person had to feel after discovering one of Orochimaru's labs. I studied her face, repeated her name in my head to remember it better and joined it in my mind to the long-sleeved red shirt she wore under her vest. Then I turned to the hall we had entered half a minute ago. Intestine-like tubes, gurneys specked with dried blood, broken machines, corpses, half-destroyed filing cabinets with labeled body parts, shards of glass . . . I had seen worse, but not often. Half of the roof had caved in, letting through strings of sunlight that gave the place an otherwordly aura.

"It's not a pretty place," I said. "But then, you wouldn't expect it to be, given whose haunt it was."

"No, sir." Miko kept her composure. The thread holding it together was thinning out, though.

If you moved into a place, you were likely to find signs of whoever had lived there before you. When I had rented my new apartment, the reek of smoke had still clung to the yellowed wallpaper. Likewise, I'd left more than one word scratched into the plaster of my old one. Orochimaru's signature, it turned out, came in blood and horror. Later I'd have to scrub my mind clean of those images.

Danzō should have become a real estate broker. He'd really given us the best plot of land for our base of operations.

I had been in Grass for three weeks now, and no day passed without finding stuff from Orochimaru lying around. He had loved his winding tunnels and rooms and hallways, always patterned, always curling in on themselves like snakes. Orochimaru had screwed over generations of shinobi, but I had to admit that few could compare to his flair for style.

Still, I wouldn't have gotten a wink of sleep had I made his basement my bedroom. Down here, we cooked and ate, stored our supplies, and held larger meetings. Our sleeping quarters were under the open sky—a neat ring of dozens of tents staggered around the entrance to this hideout.

"Clear out everything that isn't medical equipment and then clean the place. Have"—I paused, fishing for names—"Maru and Takashi take a look at the machines. I want to know what they are. If they're valuable, repair them or salvage the good parts."

At Miko's grimace, I said, "You don't like that order?"

She looked caught. "I'm sorry, sir. It's just . . . I'd much rather burn it all to the ground and forget it ever existed."

"You wouldn't be the first one. But have you ever tried really hard not to think about something?"

"Often enough."

"Did it work?"

She hesitated. "No, sir. I don't think it did."

"It'll be the same here, believe me. Just torching the place won't change anything. You've got to get to the root of things and start there by changing what it means to you." Jiraiya's wisdom had served me well before. Maybe it'd do the same for her.

Miko squinted at me. I had her attention, but not her understanding. "How do you mean?"

I gestured at the gurneys. "What is this place? What happened in here?"

"Human experiments. Torture. Maybe worse stuff . . . I . . . I don't know. I—"

I put a hand on her shoulder. "Easy there, Miko. That's good enough. Now, what is the opposite of all that?"

It took her a moment. Her face scrunched up, then her eyes popped out. She turned to the machines, to the corners that were yet full of corpses and tubes, and back around. "You can't be serious, sir? A med bay? Here?"

I grinned at her. "First order: get out Orochimaru's stuff. Second order: get out his stink, repair the roof, and make this place our own. Now get to it. You'll have all the help you need from Maru and Takashi. If you need supplies, speak to the quartermaster."

Rubbing my hands, I left Miko to her new task. The day I'd made Orochimaru's throne room our mess hall, and his personal chamber our kitchen, had found a special place in my heart. Now I could also add the med bay to that gallery of good moments. With rebels hanging around and Iwa sure to move soon, I knew I'd have to frontload a fair share of those.

Outside, shinobi sat in front of their tents, enjoying the respite from their guard duty in the sun. They scribbled into their diaries, prepared seals for combat, or talked with their comrades about everything and nothing. A group on hunting duty carried spits with boars past me. A trio of new Chūnin walked right behind them, bellyaching while holding twigs and small branches. They wanted action, yet all they got was firewood.

Three tents farther, a kunoichi had made brewing coffee into an art. Only two decades ago it had been an expensive delight in Konoha, something you got when you had a lot of cash to throw around - a sign of status, if nothing else. But ever since the war started and our relationship with Suna increased as a result of our alliance, those beans had become available for cheap in the village. The unsealed glass apparatus she used for brewing would fit right into Orochimaru's lab, but that was a small price to pay for the smell wafting over from her tent; a smell that consistently had the whole camp stand in line each morning, ready to part with their money.

As the commanding officer, I could jump the line for my cup, a privilege I normally made heavy use of. Since the day was slow, however, I took my time for once and waited orderly in line, chatting with my men. At first they were hesitant, but that had never stopped me before. I had made clear at the beginning that I expected them to follow the chain of command, but I wasn't about to shy away from personal bonds with them. That wasn't my style, and it wasn't how you got cohesion in a team either.

"Meaning no disrespect, sir," one of them said eventually, "but I think I see you at this tent more often than any other person."

"It's the best coffee around," I said.

"My head's spinning after the second cup," a kunoichi said behind us. "You're here far more often, sir. Are you sure all that coffeine's good for your heart? What would your wife say?" she asked with a cheeky smile.

I said, "She'll never learn of it if you know what's good for you," before breaking into a grin.

"Here, sir," the kunoichi actually brewing the coffee said, handing me a cup.

"Thanks, Ainu."

I made space for the others and took up position next to the tent, blowing at the curling steam while watching the steady flux of shinobi come and go.

Our base was situated in a forest in the southernmost part of Grass. From here, the woods stretched all the way up to a chain of hills to the north, which lay adjacent to Mount Hibiko, a giant whose scraggy top dipped into the clouds. I'd seen no names for the hills on my maps, but since you'd have a hard time finding a path up Mount Hibiko without them, I took to calling them the Divine Footstool.

"Sir." A bearded Chūnin—Shien, I think—appeared next to me.

"What is it, Shien?"

His shoulders straightened. "One of our scout teams hasn't called in yet. Their return was scheduled for two hours ago."

"Two hours isn't that much yet. They could've been delayed by the locals at Imae. I'll look into it."

The moment he saluted, I gave Ainu back the cup and started walking.

Imae was a city to the north, close to the country's center. It was only two decades old, but these days people considered it the capital of Grass. The former capital, razed during the Third War, lay only a few miles west, its ruinous towers still peeking out above the forest. They were twins, these cities: one broken, the other an imitation. Who knew how long that replacement would last?

My first act as a commander had been to send out scouts to every corner of Grass. The news they brought back was less than optimal. The clans loyal to Orochimaru were rising, while Iwa had started to move into the north-west. Two headaches, I was sure, that wouldn't take long until they became migraines. So far, no one had died, though, and I intended to keep it that way.

I arrived at a brown tent some distance away from the others, which was leaning against a tree. As I made my way through the high grass, I could make out a buzzing and whirring from inside.

"Shima, It's me," I called. "I'm coming in."

I ducked through the flap and into a black tornado of bugs and other creepers whirling in the middle of the tent. There was a click of a tongue, then they all shot past me, leaving me alone with Aburame Shima. Each of her ears was pierced from the lobe up to the upper rim, starting with an egg, moving to a caterpillar, a cocoon, and finally a small butterfly. She was chewing gum—a remnant of her time serving under Genma, which ought to make you more relaxed by default.

"What do you wish of me, sir?"

"I need you to speak with your bugs. The team to Imae hasn't returned yet."

"Imae is far away, sir. If I locate them, I won't be able to track anyone else until tomorrow."

"Do it anyway. I'll switch up your schedule so you can get some rest afterwards."

Shima closed her eyes and flew through hand seals. Her brow trembled. She released a pulse of chakra which at first expanded at the speed of a snail, then thinned out and accelerated. Soon it had cleared the camp, leaving my perception.

When the wave of chakra rushed back into her a moment later, it took the strength right out of her. She collapsed into my waiting arms, and I put her down onto her bedroll. She looked up at me, her face sweaty and flushed. "They aren't moving, sir," she gasped out.

"Are they still at Imae?"

Shima shook her head. "An hour east of it." Her eyes were falling shut.

"Thank you," I said. "I'll let you get some rest."

"Thank you, sir," Shima mumbled, on the verge of falling asleep.

Once I had left her place, I made a beeline to my tent, my stomach tied in knots. I'd already made plans what to do in case my team was stuck in Imae. Chief among my thoughts had been going there to bust jaws until I found them. That they were an hour east of the city, unmoving, made things even worse.

Inside my tent, a clone had worn circles like rutted cart tracks into the earth while thinking up speeches. After dispelling it, I received bits and pieces that might be useful. Most of the clone's time had been taken up thinking about my father, though, and what kinds of speeches he must've given. That explained the melancholic look as it popped, then.

My desk was littered with open scrolls, my choppy, unrefined handwriting like a neon sign on all of them. On the straw-covered floor, crumpled sheets of paper had formed a little mound. All of them were failed attempts at writing Hinata. I just wasn't any good at putting words to paper. If only I still had Iruka to help me write, like he'd done when I wrote Jiji to wish him a happy birthday. I'd never seen the old man that happy before. He'd even framed the damn thing and put it in his office.

But I had no time to dwell in that memory any longer. I swiped most of the scrolls off the table, looking for the map buried beneath them. When I found it, I located Imae, and then looked for what lay east of it. I was searching for a village, anything that could explain an impromptu stop. All I found was forest, though. Nothing but woods. Which meant there was no sufficiently benign explanation for a sudden stop. An attack, then? But was it Iwa or the clans? Probably the clans—Iwa had yet to really move into Grass.

I left the tent, giving a sharp whistle. Immediately, a Chūnin was running up to me.

"Sir?"

"I'm leaving the camp for Imae. Shien is second in command until my return."

"For Imae, sir? Have the scouts not returned yet?"

"I'll bring them home."

He was short, hurrying alongside me and trying to keep my pace. "Team Twelve is fully operational right now, sir. Let me get them and—"

"There's no time. I'm going alone. Let the men rest, they've earned it."

"Sir?"

"You have your orders."

I left him with those words, jumping the palisade ringing the camp, then blasting off toward Imae. Speed was of the essence, and I trusted very few people among my troops to keep up with me.

I leapt through the forest at breakneck speed, occasionally coating myself with a fine layer of wind chakra to shear through foliage. At such a pace, sounds grew strange. I heard the rushing wind, punctuated by outcries of animals that stopped a split second later once I was past the source.

My thoughts circled the scout team. Everytime the idea that they could be dead popped up, I suppressed it ruthlessly. Involuntarily, though, I saw their faces as they had left for Imae yesterday, and I remembered what little information I had about them. Two had kids. One was divorced, the other had a civilian wife waiting for him in Konoha. The third and fourth weren't in a relationship as far as I knew. But they too had family back in Konoha. Younger siblings, parents, grandparents . . . They couldn't just die. People don't simply die like that. How would I even justify it if I had to write letters of condolence to their families? No, they weren't dead. At this point the information they had gathered in Imae was secondary. I would get them home, to camp. Everything else was inexcusable.

I found them, just as Shima had said, about an hour east of Imae. When I located the bodies, hidden in a brush like random trash, I had a second where my heart seemed to stop. Then I pulled them out and knelt beside the first one. He had a few scrapes. Worse, though, were his purple fingernails and the bubbly spit around his lips. I leaned down to his chest—his heart was still beating. I confirmed it with the others, too. They had been poisoned and then been left to die. That was definitely not an Iwa-method. The clans, then. There could be no other explanation.

I tried to remember what Iruka had taught me about poisons, but all I knew was that I knew barely anything. One time, however, on a joint mission, Sakura had made Kiba puke to get toxins out of him.

I called up three clones. Each took position next to another member of the patrol. We rolled them around so they wouldn't suffocate on their own barf, and then put our fingers to work. It was ugly, stank to hell and back, and my hand was sticky, but after a short while my clones and I had managed to make all of them vomit.

That done, everyone lifted one member on their shoulder, and we set off for camp in a hurried pace. I had no idea if the vomiting helped, and wouldn't take any more chances. They needed a medic-nin, and a good one at that.

When I arrived at camp, Shikamaru, my old squad, and a slew of reinforcements had arrived in the meanwhile. They stood around at the gate as if they had come in just moments earlier than me.

When they saw me with four bodies, Izuna and Shikamaru ran up to me.

"I found them in the forest. They're poisoned. Izuna, patch them up. I made them vomit already. Get someone to show you the way to the current med bay—the new one is still under construction. If you need help, there are three other medic-nin. The rest of you, put up your tents and then get something to eat in the mess hall—down into the tunnel system and straight through—you'll find the way. Shikamaru, walk with me."

* * *

Shikamaru fell in beside me, his face impassive even as his eyes were jumping around, taking in the camp—no doubt calculating improvements in layout, guard shifts, and overall procedure. Once we reached the camp's outer edge and I was sure no one was watching us, I clasped his forearm and pulled him into a hug. It lasted only a second, but god, had I missed seeing a familiar face.

Shikamaru snorted. "I see you've taken my advice. I wonder why you can't do that every other time as well."

"Because this one makes sense. The other times it didn't."

After Shikamaru had explained why, as a commander, showing too much affection to one soldier and not to another was bad, I had always kept things like this private. With him nearby I relaxed, though. Another brain was here now that could take care of an emergency. I'd become tenser than I first thought in those three weeks without him. And the patrol business just now had done the rest.

I said, "Believe me, man, it's good seeing you and the others. Although you came three days earlier than expected."

"It took a while for some of our reinforcements to come back from their missions, but Danzō sent us out the moment we were complete, picking up some more people along the way." Shikamaru heaved a sigh. "Everyone but our old squad hasn't had time off in a while now. It's troublesome, but our leave means nothing to the man."

"I noticed. But I'm glad you're here anyway." There was no one I'd rather have at my side during problematic times. And today had turned out to be quite problematic.

The thought wiped the smile right off my face. I prayed that Sakura had taught Izuna enough to patch them up. Once I found out who exactly had done it, I'd tear them to shreds for it.

Shikamaru seemed to know what was going through my mind. "We have to wait for them to wake up to be sure, but I doubt this was Iwa," he said. "Poison isn't their style."

"I had the same thought."

As we began walking again, he resumed more quietly, "Can you fill me in on the details so far? I . . . only had a little time to read the reports of the situation, and I might have slept through a briefing or two."

I arched an eyebrow. "Had something else on your mind?" I felt myself relax a little, the tenseness leaving my shoulders.

"Maybe," he said.

I shook my head. "This is going to be a fair deal. Information for information. I fill you in, if you do the same."

He seemed willing to protest at first, but then relented. "Ino came back to Konoha." I could see from his expression that he wouldn't say a word more than that, and he didn't have to, really. "Now," he said, "what's going on here?"

"We've got two problems. Iwa and the clans. The last one is worrying me the most right now. I'd be surprised if they weren't the ones behind the poison."

"Not afraid of Iwa?"

I shrugged. "Iwa has had some trouble lately. Even if Waterfall belongs to them now, the resistance isn't dead, and they're giving Iwa a good fight up there. I've no doubts Iwa will make a move in Grass—they've started to get the ball rolling already—but from the reports it'll take them a while yet, even though Waterfall is bordering us. For now I expect only a few skirmishes, nothing major. With some luck we'll have a good hold on this place before any of the real fighting happens."

"Which leaves the clans. Were all of them loyal to Orochimaru?"

"Pretty much." We had come to the center of the camp and were nearing the entrance to the tunnel system. "It's strange, for sure, but he kept them safe. He was almost like a god to them."

"That's what those shrines were . . ."

"Oh, so you've seen them? Do you like 'em?"

"Not much, no."

I shared that sentiment. Take any path leading through Grass and eventually you'd come by a small shrine shaped like a snake, some offerings and lit candles in front of it. To the locals, Orochimaru had been a deity, a protective element. Sure, you had to sacrifice some people here and there to pacify him, but what were a few lives compared to Grass for once not made a plaything in shinobi wars? To them he was a hero. Vicious, yes, and unpredictable too, but his presence alone had kept us away from this place for years.

The question was if those beliefs extended past the general population. The clans should know better. But Orochimaru had always also held a lot of sway over shinobi.

Lit by sconces, the tunnel stretched away from us. Our shadows leapt across the floor like angry vipers when the wind gusted, setting the flames to shiver. Even with a caved in ceiling here and there to let in fresh air, the place was still suffused with a musty, damp smell.

I clicked my tongue. "You know, I've tried to understand how anyone can send their children to Orochimaru for training, no matter how beneficial he was to them. It seems obvious that's a bad idea. Who'd trust that guy? You met him, right? I think you said so when you were skirting Grass a year ago."

Shikamaru's face was half-shadowed. "Briefly. We high-tailed it out of there. Luckily he didn't pursue us beyond the border. He could've gotten to us, though. He seemed . . . strangely protective of Grass. It was a troublesome thing all around—the debriefing took weeks. Psychological evaluations, medical check-ups even though we barely had a scrape to our names, and dozens of meetings with the Brass. I can't remember the last time I slept as little."

"Until Ino came along, eh?"

He shot me a look that told me to back off, and I abided—temporarily. "Anyway," I said, "I've asked around and talked to some folks who had missions in Grass some years back, before Orochimaru came by. Turns out the system they used in Grass made taking over quite easy for him."

Shikamaru tilted his head. "I can't recall ever learning about that with Iruka. What's the system like? You mentioned clans. Centralized? Have they got something akin to the Hokage?"

"No to both," I said as we arrived at the meeting hall. It was empty except for a huge map I had hung at the southern wall and the chair I had carried in so I could sit and stare at the map for hours. With Shikamaru here I hoped to drastically cut down on that time. His brain should be much more suited for this kind of work.

"The clans are scattered all over Grass," I said. "Before Orochimaru came into the picture and centralized the power structure, they only had a loose form of kinship with one another. I'm sure some clans were stronger than others, but for the most part they'd only meet twice a year on some kind of summit to discuss important things and exchange Genin. Apparently you'd never have two members from the same clan on one team. It got the kids around and gave them a chance to learn about more than their clan."

"They also served wonderfully as hostages, I presume," Shikamaru said.

"I guess. I'd think twice about plotting against other clans if I knew some of my kids are with them."

Shikamaru made a low sound in his throat. "If the clans are up to their old methods, we might be able to capitalize on that."

"That's why I brought it up. They'll be meeting up soon for another summit."

"All of them?"

"Clan heads and bodyguards, I'd say. The problem is that so far we have no idea where their little get-together is supposed to take place. The team at Imae, the one I brought in earlier, was supposed to find that out."

"You think they've been found out, then, and that's why they were poisoned."

"It's likely, yes. I have faith in Izuna, though. Once they wake up, they might have more information."

Shikamaru crossed his arms, letting his eyes wander around the map. He was coming up with plans, calculating the actions of all parties involved. Sooner or later he would arrive at some conclusion, which probably involved my own plans as well. I had a fair idea of what I wanted to do with the knowledge of where the clans were going to meet. And of every shinobi alive today, Shikamaru knew me by far the best. Perhaps even better than Hinata. He'd suss it out soon enough.

We stood silent for a good while, now and then hearing shinobi pass us by in the tunnels outside, their footfalls and voices coming and receding like the tide. Presently Shikamaru turned to me, his face set in fierce disapproval. As expected, he had divined my intention in no time at all, and without my telling him.

"Absolutely not," he said mulishly.

Since I was the commander, I had the benefit of raising my eyebrow at his outburst.

"You can't be serious," he went on. "Alone?"

I rolled my eyes. "Who else in this camp got my chances at survival if this goes pear-shaped? It's the best way."

Even in the dim torch light the angry flush on his face was visible. "That's flat-out suicide. It is, in fact, the worst, most troublesome idea you've ever had since we started serving together—and you had a fair few of those."

"Come now, that's a lie and you know it. I only want to talk to them. If we get to an understanding with the clans our main problem is gone and we can fully focus on Iwa. This'll be the only time I can speak to all of them at once."

"You'll be alone with dozens of angry clan members. They'll poison you before you get a single word in."

"Having a Konoha-nin listening to them should be novel enough to at least last me through a sentence or two."

The reply was out before I could think it over. Shikamaru's brow lowered. He didn't appreciate the humor. Well, too bad for him. I had three poisoned shinobi in my med bay while I was damn well immune to most any toxins they could throw at me. If anything, the past hour and the debacle with Haru had shown me that some missions were simply too dangerous for any shinobi without my constitution. I wouldn't let myself be talked out of a plan again by an argument for my security. Last time that could've ended horribly. And if I managed to sway the clans, I could avoid situations like today entirely. Of all the weapons at a shinobi's disposal, I despised poison the most. Call it stupid, but I found it cowardly. It went against everything I believed in, and I had a few arguments about it with Sakura in my lifetime.

"Konoha killed Orochimaru, remember?" Shikamaru said. "Their new-found god."

"They lived without one before. How entrenched can their belief really be? I can't just let this opportunity pass by. We won't get another like it for a long time to come. And anyway, what would you have me do instead?"

"I know what every other commander would do."

"Spell it out then," I said. "Don't be shy. But you're hesitating. You hate what every other commander would have done just as much as I do. Where has assassinating everyone in our way got us so far, huh? They hate our guts. Their children hate our guts. And I've got no trouble whatsoever to believe their grandchildren will also hate our guts once they're born." I shook my head. "I'll fight them if I have to, but I won't kill off anyone before talking to them. Given what Konoha and Iwa have done to this place, they've earned at least that much courtesy."

"I get that," Shikamaru huffed. "I do, troublesome as it is. But at least don't go alone? You've got an army of capable people here. Take some with you. At least a detail of five—that's all I'm asking. Five shinobi—Jōnin—and then you can try talking them into peace."

"You think the clans will appreciate a squad of Jōnin on their front porch? That's cutting my speaking time from two sentences to half a comma." Again, levity didn't do anything. Heat was rising to my cheeks. "It would put the squad at too much of a risk when I can just as well take care of it on my own." Especially because I was nearly immune to every poison imaginable. I might get a rash for half an hour, nothing more. "Besides, it'll have a higher chance of making them think I'm there as a peaceful envoy. I'll even wear a white sash. I already got one, and it goes great with the vest."

The flush had left Shikamaru's face, replaced by a chalky whiteness as if he had seen Orochimaru rise up behind me. I knew he was only concerned for me, but as far as I could see, this was the safest way for everyone. "I appreciate the concern, but I won't change the plan. I'll go, talk to them, and get out. If it comes to a fight, I'll just flood the place with clones and get out a bit sooner—that's all."

"You're impossible," he said, shaking his head. "Just impossible. How . . ." He was clenching his fists. He stared at me, his eyes dark pins of anger. "Damn, Naruto, you're a father now. You've got Hinata and Chie waiting for you. Are you trying to kill yourself before you see them again? Are you actually trying to weasel out of your responsibilities?"

My jaw clenched. "What the hell are you saying?" I growled. "What have they got to do with anything we just talked about?"

"Well, what else am I supposed to think?"

"You're supposed to leave them out of this. Why even bring them up? Is this the next thing going into a letter to my wife?" His accusation had rattled me, and I was barely thinking about what I was saying at that point. "Just because you found yourself a girl doesn't mean that we can start taking it easy now. There'll always be danger. Don't let Ino get into your thinking. You're a shinobi."

Shikamaru stood silent and slack-jawed. Then he looked me evenly in the eyes. "I'll excuse myself for now, sir, I still have to put up my tent. Call me when there is anything strategic you want my input on."

He went past me into the tunnel system and left me standing in the briefing room with those words. My mind was blank for minutes after as I kept looking at the map, asking myself what the hell had just happened between us.

* * *

My nights, which had seen me waking up bathed in sweat at random times before, didn't get any better in the four days after my spat with Shikamaru. Every morning when I went to the barrel outside my tent to wash my face, I could admire a deepening in the bags under my eyes. If they got any blacker I'd soon be able to mask them as sunglasses and become an Aburame.

I was eating less, yawning more, and had taken to drinking a cup or two at night so I could tease my tired body into sleep. How had Jiji done it? What was Danzō's trick right now? I had no idea. The vest I wore wasn't even the red-and-white of the Hokage, and already it was dragging at me.

Ironically, the whole operation would have been derailed during those days if not for Shikamaru. He was doing his duty with cold precision. He refined patrol schedules, held daily meetings with the quartermaster, planned out new routes for our scouts, and thought up plans to consolidate Konoha's power in Grass—all laziness gone in an instant. When we spoke, it was only in an official capacity, though. Bland, in a word, and devoid of any warmth. The rest of our squad had noticed, of course, but so far they had kept their thoughts to themselves and didn't get involved. I couldn't blame them. I was quick to anger since my fallout with Shikamaru.

Presently, I sat atop a branch, watching the sunrise and reading in the diary of the girl. In a strange way, I found the act of reading soothing. It calmed me and gave me a chance to slip away from this pressure, if only for a moment. The relationship between the girl and Roshi was quite similar to the one I'd had with Kakashi. We had gone through the same stages of dislike until we somehow landed on friendship. I also knew her name now. Kurotsuchi. Her handwriting had gotten more refined over the entries, which sometimes had months between them:

_Yesterday I drank my first cup of sake, which quickly became a bottle. Rōshi is still laughing at my headache; I can hear him from the other room. He had a lot of fun introducing me to this beastly drink. But what was I supposed to do? Grandfather won't give us any of the more dangerous missions, even though Rōshi asked him to, and I begged him for it. It's ridiculous! Why have me trained, only to then relegate me to nothing more challenging than a B-rank? I can take any of his guards and beat them into the ground. They'd never see it coming. And yet I'm still stuck here on lousy missions._

_ Rōshi laughs at me when I complain, but I know he isn't any better. I asked grandfather about it. Rōshi was going to pieces before I arrived on his doorstep. Iwa had made him the sharpest weapon in its history, and just when he was ready, the Tenmen Treaty came along, and with it peace. There was no use for him anymore, no purpose. I'm glad I came when I did. Unwittingly, grandfather did a good thing there, that stubborn old man. I wouldn't have wanted for Rōshi to suffer any more. I think he's in a better place now._

I put down the diary. I'd had an inkling before, but this entry confirmed it: Kurotsuchi's grandfather wasn't just a friend of Rōshi, or a higher up in Iwa's hierarchy as I had first thought. He was the damn Tsuchikage himself. I had never heard about him having a family. Had it been kept under wraps?

I was still thinking about the implications of this find, when Subaru appeared on the branch next to me. His Byakugan made me think of home, even though it was set in a copper-cast face and very professional. I really should make another attempt at finishing that letter.

"Yes?"

"Sir, I know it is not my place, but . . ." When he fumbled his words, looking awkwardly at the horizon, I became curious despite myself. Was this really the day I would get an emotional intervention from a Hyūga that wasn't Hinata? He resumed, "I assume you have your reasons for the . . . dispute with Nara-san, but the current divide between you makes it hard to keep my promise to Hinata-sama. It is also starting to affect the overall morale of the troops, and—excuse me for saying so—that is inexcusable on a campaign this important."

Subaru's fingers twitched up to the bone talisman around his neck, but he stopped himself before showing such an overt motion. I looked blankly at him. "Your promise to Hinata?"

He nodded. "She tasked me with keeping you and, to a lesser extent, Nara-san safe. The higher our morale, and the stronger your bond, the easier this becomes: a broken chain is no use to anyone. I would not want to fail her." There was some real zest in that last statement, enough to make a guy squint a little to see if someone was trying to hit on his wife. But I let it slide. Hinata was incredibly popular with the branch family and my focus lay entirely on the part where my wife had ordered one of my soldiers to keep me, his commander, safe.

I was getting angry again, not the least because I had been sleepless all night. I forced all of that down. An argument had estranged me from Shikamaru already; I didn't want to add Subaru to that.

"Thank you for bringing the question of morale to my attention," I said. "I'll keep it in mind. Now, if there is nothing else . . ."

Subaru shook his head. He looked glad to leave me alone, leaping down to a lower branch and out of sight. I sat watching the orange cast of the sky. A flight of birds shaped like an arrowhead went by.

I couldn't believe Hinata had done that. It wasn't just about having my authority undermined—and it did plenty of that—but I had promised her that I would come back. How long had this been going on? My mind went to the night of our talk, and the letters she mentioned she got from Subaru and Shikamaru. Had they always been keeping an eye on me, trying to protect me? Mission after mission, there had been so many times when Shikamaru wanted to put me into less dangerous positions, tried to get others on my team to take the risk instead . . . My jaw started to hurt from the way I was grinding my teeth. Small wonder he didn't want me to go this time either—Hinata had given him a nice mandate about it. He would vote against anything that was even remotely dangerous, even though zero deaths were numbers hard to argue with. I also couldn't help but think of my father. I was sure my mother had never asked another shinobi to keep an eye on him. And why should she? Had they all lost faith in me that easily?

I got to my feet and glared down at the foliage. If not for Subaru and his new religion, which compelled him to always speak his mind, I wouldn't have learned of this. This could have continued for years and years, and I would have been none the wiser.

"Sir."

I wheeled around to Izuna, who had appeared behind me. She took a reflexive step back and I had to get a grip on myself. This no sleep thing was really doing me no favors.

"What is it, Izuna?"

"The first member of the patrol has woken up for a moment before falling back asleep," she reported, her lithe body stiff as a board—much like Sakura had been at that age. She tried to hide it behind professionalism, but I could see the concern in her eyes. Tired to the bone, eyes ringed and unshaved, I must have made quite a sight.

"Has he said anything?"

She nodded, conflicted. "I couldn't get him to stop talking and rest. He said to tell you quickly. Their mission was a success—they overheard that the clans will be meeting in five days' time at the base of Mount Hibiko."

"Five days," I murmured, running the calculations in my head. "That leaves us with about a day. Doable, but not worth anything anymore. If the clans poisoned them after being spied on, they won't just leave their plans as is. They'll have made some changes on the off chance the information gets through."

"It might not have been the clans, sir. I extracted and then analyzed the poison in their systems. It isn't one commonly used in Grass—Sakura-sama drilled me on those fairly extensively," she added with pride. "And while the poison itself doesn't have an origin per se, its ingredients do—the majority of them can be traced back to the western lowlands of Iwa, a region called Kagan."

I could have given the girl a hug right then. She was a rookie and green as the sky was blue, but god if Sakura hadn't turned out a fine shinobi there. A little more experience and Izuna would become a nightmare for Konoha's enemies.

In any case, her information changed everything. Yes, it was concerning that Iwa had advanced its own scouts that far into Grass already, but that could be dealt with later. Important was that I still had a chance to convince the clans of working with us—or if that was asking too much, then at least not working with Iwa.

"You did a good job getting them back to health, Izuna," I said, barely containing my giddiness. It seemed to take some of her earlier concern away, because her lips pulled into a shy smile.

"Thank you, sir."

"Now listen, I'll have to hurry if I want to get there in time."

"You are going there alone, sir?" she asked, wide-eyed.

I nodded. "It's a dangerous gig, too dangerous for most in this camp. Anyway, inform Shikamaru of the situation, but also tell him that under no circumstance is he to send people after me. Tell him it is a direct order from a superior officer."

She was reluctant, but I left her little choice in the matter.

I told her again that she had done a good job with her patients, then panned my gaze across the foliage to the Divine Footstool in the north, the three hills at the base of Mount Hibiko.

That would be where they were going to meet, huh? Well, there was no party like a party with an Uzumaki in it, and I'd make damn sure to liven up their meeting.

* * *

Chapter End


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **Everything belongs to Masashi Kishimoto.

* * *

**Rokudaime**

Chapter 5

* * *

As the evening sun began shining through the canopy, I arrived in front of the waterfall that marked the territory of the Divine Footstool. From atop the trees back at camp, the Footstool had always looked like two hills rising in front, speckled with soft grass, and a third one, narrow but taller, snuggling up to the mountain behind. No doubt, Jiraiya would have described them as two butt cheeks pressing themselves against a pole. Now, though, standing in front of the bluff, I looked at nothing but solid rock. Instead of soft grass only some hardy shrubbery grew out between the granite framing the waterfall, and the Footstool struck me more as a pair of scraped knees than a nice booty.

I ordered a few dozen clones to spread out and disguise themselves as plants and rocks, which would pop themselves as soon as a group of Kusa-nin came by. The area to cover proved quite large—my clones had the tendency to get weaker and more loony the farther away they were from me—but since their only job was suicide, they'd manage just fine.

I had moved at a fast clip to reach the Footstool, so I still had some time to make myself presentable. If marrying a Hyūga had taught me anything, then it was that I couldn't talk to clan elders looking like a bum.

I took off my vest, peeled myself out of my shirt, and washed myself in the cold river. Fish leapt to and fro, leaving, for only a second, arcs of glistening spray in the air between us. The summer heat dared me to take a plunge, but I had to hurry on.

I went to a spot where the choppy water smoothed out and the groves of birches clustering at the banks found their mirror image instead of becoming hideously distorted.

While shaving myself with a kunai, I inspected the dark pockets under my eyes. Illusions weren't an option. With my limited ability at Genjutsu, they'd sniff it out in a second. I came prepared, though. Watching myself in the water, I followed Ino's instructions, put on foundation, and then went to town with a concealer. The result looked neat enough—little remained of my dark circles. I whispered a quick thanks to Ino, then forced my mind in a different direction. When I thought of her, I thought of Shikamaru. I couldn't have that right now.

As I was tying the white sash around my hips, one of my clones popped itself.

Time to go.

I found the Kusa-nin close by and hid in the trees to observe the group of nine. None of them old geezers like those mummies Homura and Koharu, whose continued survival had puzzled me for years now. From the way some of them gravitated around others, I made out at least three clan leaders: a fat, bald man lugging around a keg strapped to his back; a tall fellow with a long neck, easily doubling my height; and a woman with rust-red hair long enough to be done up and braided while still looping past her waist. She was talking with the other two leaders, who nodded deferentially, then glared at one another over her head.

Interesting. So she was the true force to be reckoned with in that formation.

Once the group got past the steep, rocky bluff, the leftmost hill of the Footstool turned more hospitable. A system of interwoven streams and lakes, covered in grass and ferns, broke up the landscape. Four more groups joined the Kusa-nin as we neared the northern parts, swelling their numbers to twenty all in all.

I ignored the murky feeling in my chest and kept tailing them. Up the steep, narrow paths we went, alongside the third and last hill of the Footstool, until we came to a point where the grass ended and all the bushes and trees stopped growing.

It had gotten darker and darker as the night went on. The moon was only a sliver in the sky, not much of a help to me, and soon I couldn't see my hand in front of my eyes. I would've lost my target if not for the noise they made while talking.

Without light, they took to a set of stairs hewn into the side of the mountain, their chatter a monotone buzz ahead. I had to slow down at the stairs and find my footing. The first minutes went alright, but then the path led me between steep ridge walls, and their voices were bouncing around, coming from here now, and then from there a second later.

I couldn't see them anymore, and barely knew where I was stepping. My hand brushed against the wall to my right, making sure I wouldn't wander off and fall into a ravine. On it went, my feet becoming surer of themselves again. This wasn't so bad, after all. You could get used to anything with enough pluck.

When my right hand grabbed air instead of rock, I stopped. Pitch black darkness hovered next to me. From above came an explosive laugh, rumbling between the mountains like thunder. I stilled, waiting for the laughter to subside. My heart was beating hard. At least it wasn't raining.

I made sure of how broad the way was, then kept advancing in a low crouch, feeling my way forward. Once, Jiji had taken me to a wandering circus passing Konoha, telling me that all the acrobatic feats we saw that day were expected from a student entering the Academy. Months later I had still been trying to balance on a taut clothesline, my eyes closed, falling off every other attempt. I'd been a shinobi for more than a decade now—half a mile of free fall on either side was nothing to me.

The noise guiding me became quieter, then ceased altogether. I pushed forward. Hewing stairs into mountains was the kind of task you avoided doing more than once. This had to be the only path. Their meeting place would come up eventually.

Besides, I wouldn't be able to look Shikamaru in the eyes if, after all the hay I'd made about this mission, I got lost on the way. Say nothing of Hinata and Chie. Looking incompetent to them would be the worst.

Half an hour later my feet were treading grass again and I found light at the horizon. I snuck through the underbrush up to a walled compound that lay adjacent to a tarn, its central building multi-storied.

Voices rang out from the garden, and the clinking of cups. A bamboo pipe was filling, then emptying out while insects buzzed around. From farther away sounded a splash, as if someone was throwing stones into the tarn.

I adjusted the white sash, then walked out of my hiding place. A shinobi not much older than Izuna was leaning against the wall, chewing on a toothpick. He must have felt secure in this location. He only noticed me when I was standing in front of him.

While he drew a kunai with jagged edges, I sent out a pulse of chakra, alerting the people inside that I was willing to join the festivities. A blink later, nine leaders were glaring at me. Two more seconds, then their escorts arrived as well, crowding the front gate.

"Konoha . . ." the tall man murmured, chakra gathering under his skin. "Will you do the honors, Kikou-sama, or shall I?" he asked the lady with the complicated hair.

"Ah, screw this, Iga, there's no one here wants to see you do your weird tricks," the fat man said instead, slapping his stomach before shouldering his barrel. "No need to trouble Kikou-sama either. I'll give him a quick and fiery grave, and he'll be grateful to have experienced the mercy of the Uma clan."

I ignored them butting heads and addressed the woman they called Kikou. "I'm not here to start trouble, if that's what you're worried about."

Uma wheeled away from his adversary, his stupendous belly filling with air. "I'll give you trouble, you —"

"Stop this, Uma," Kikou said. "You as well, Iga. Such behavior is unbecoming of the clans. As for you," she said to me, "the word of a Konoha-nin holds little worth. You need not start trouble; you _are_ trouble. Identify yourself."

"I'm the commander of Konoha's forces in Grass, Uzumaki Naruto."

A few eyes widened at the name, while someone farther back sucked in their breath, then muttered, "_Konoha's Thousand-Face_." The introduction was about to set off Uma and Iga again, but a look from Kikou kept them quiet. The clans were more centralized than the reports had made them out to be.

I patted my hip. "I'm only here to talk. I even prepared this spiffy sash for the occasion."

Kikou narrowed her eyes. "That thing is a garment, nothing more."

"It's mostly a sign that I'm here for diplomacy not war. If this were a trap, this place would be torched down already, with dozens swarming out to find any survivors. But that's not my style, and honestly, I think most of my predecessors bungled things up majestically for all of us. That's why I'm here. To talk. To make sure that won't happen again."

"And what if we don't like talking to scum like you?" Iga said, his voice cold and precise.

I shrugged. "If you keep attacking Konoha-nin, I'll retaliate. I'd rather it doesn't come to this, but I'm a shinobi, and I've got my mission—you know how this works."

"You little shit!" Uma was on the move again, keg ready. I still had no idea what he used it for. Maybe he was a drunk with a large appetite? "I'll blaze you—"

Kikou raised her hand. "As regrettable as his language is, Uma has a point. So does Iga. Why would we let you escape this place, now that we have the head of the beast right there for us to cut it off?"

Ah. My hands were clammy. Blood was pulsing in my head. When adrenalin ran highest, though, the best way to stay calm was to amuse yourself. Jiraiya was a master at this. Kakashi hadn't been half bad either. And I? I had expected a question like this, and I had waited for a chance to say this cheesy line for ages.

I lifted my chin and smiled. "What makes you think you could stop me?"

I was burning their astounded faces into my memory, when laughter rang out in the back. It came in wheezy bursts, interrupted by a hacking cough. "Let me through, sonny," I heard from behind a stout fellow, who stepped aside to reveal an old lady, hunchbacked and trembling on her walking stick as she fought her way up to the front.

"Grandmother . . ." Kikou said, her lips a perfect o-shape of surprise. "I thought you had gone to bed—"

"Psht," the old lady said with an arthritic wave of her hand, its skin blue-veined and blotted with liver spots. "As if I could sleep with all of you shouting and growling like dogs in front of my porch. Now, what's this? A Konoha-nin? Came a long way, did you?" She shuffled towards me, her eyes scrunched up behind thick, horn-rimmed glasses that gave her the appearance of an ancient beetle.

After a while, the old lady said to Kikou, "He's handsome. Let him in."

"Grandmother!"

"I have to agree with Kikou-sama," Uma burst out. "He's an enemy. He'll bring nothing but trouble. We ought to kill him."

"Why haven't you, then? Something about him gives you pause, eh?" At Uma's red face the old lady began to cackle. "No worries there, scion of Uma. I understand, it's a thing of pride for you. But this is my home, and don't you forget it. Now get him inside, give him some sake, and tomorrow we'll hear what this Konoha-nin has to say to us. Up, up. It's cold out here, and I'll be damned if I freeze to death in front of my own house."

* * *

The night had taken a strange turn. I sat on a pillow at a low table stretching an entire hall, my belly full of food and a cup of the best sake Grass had to offer in front of me. A pipe was being reached around.

The old lady was impervious to the awkwardness surrounding us. It took her all of two minutes to involve me and others in a lively discussion about the merits of some food over others, smoothly transitioning to stories about missions gone hilariously awry—and of those everyone had a fair few to share. The old bird was kooky, and at times had probably been at odds with Konoha, but she seemed a good person.

Kikou hadn't said a word since we sat down. She kept tracking my movements, though. The rest of the table was split. Some were relaxing into the evening, helped along by liquor, while others sat glaring and whispering among themselves. It didn't take a genius to figure out why.

The boy next to me was no older than eleven. What he was doing at this meeting I couldn't say, but they gave him sake, too, and I soon talked to him about the difference a well-sharpened kunai made in a fight, and how to manipulate it to more effect.

"You flick it like this, see?" I said, demonstrating with a tablespoon. "It's easy enough. Swipe and deflect, flick, then stab."

The boy looked on, fascinated. He took his own spoon out of his bowl and flicked it around. "So, like this?"

"Give it more kick in your wrist. You want it to almost snap around."

He tried it to, well, some effect. It was enough to make him grin, though. "This is great! Daichi won't see this coming. Next time we spar, I'll stomp him for sure."

I snorted. Whoever Daichi was, he seemed to be the kid's Sasuke. "Once you got this down, get someone to show you how to use wires. You can do some mean stuff if you combine the two. It's perfect for tripping people up."

He was all ears. In between staring at me, he absentmindedly ate his soup. The next time he tried the flick, though, some was still left on his spoon. The rapid motion sent it hurling across the room, a single pea among it, and right into Uma's sake cup.

I had never seen a human face grow red that fast. Uma's heavy jowls were shuddering, his whole body trembling, as the old lady began to laugh and the table followed suit. Even Iga, that long-necked guy, couldn't help the grin as he saw a pea bob around in Uma's cup.

The sake, the heavy food, the pipe's voluminous clouds hovering around the ceiling . . . all of it padded my mind in cotton as the tiredness from the days before came crashing down on me. I couldn't fall asleep at the table, though. The old lady had already told me that a futon would be waiting for me, and that talking shop could wait until sunrise when everyone was clear-minded again. She had said this after recounting how, fifty years ago, she had danced with Jiji at a festival. The very next morning, having shared a bed only the night before, their missions crossed and they recognized each other. They continued their dance, then. This time with fire, iron and blood. I was mighty impressed by that story, but still hoped my morning would hold better things in store.

The pipe passed me by. I took a drag and coughed, to the amusement of the boy, who got it next and puffed on it like an expert. "If you want a really fresh feeling," he said, "blow it out through your nose. It feels great."

I did, coughed again because I never even got to the exhaling part in tact, and handed the pipe over. Smoking wasn't for me, and I was sure Hinata would have a lot to say if I started now.

"And it's all just one leader?" the boy asked a while later. "Why do you even have clans, then, if they're not free to do what they want?"

I suppressed a yawn. "They are, for the most part. And they specialize in different areas that are only accessible to their family members. It would be weird not to call that a clan."

"But if one insults the other, they can't just . . . you know, fight it out among the clans? They always have to go to your Hokage for permission? Isn't that a lot of work when a quick fight would solve things much easier?"

"I'm sure there's plenty of fighting it out going on," I said with a grin, remembering some interesting duels I'd had with Kiba over the smallest things. "But for the big stuff, the Hokage will be there, and you'll come to an agreement. That's the whole point of a village. You do things together."

"We do things together, too, you know. It's not like we're"—he was looking for the right word—"savages here. We work in teams, too."

"You're exactly right, we do," Uma's baritone came from the other end of the table. "And that's just like Konoha, assuming we're savage and uncivilized just because we don't adopt their fancy system of one dictator ruling all. It's what they always do, looking down on us. It's always the same. All the damn time, they think they're so much better than we. You know it's true. I know it's true. Even that Konoha-nin knows it's true. That's why he's skirting around the issue so much, isn't that right, you damn bastard?"

The room had grown silent at his outburst. I wanted to reply at first, but then thought better of it. I wasn't here to start trouble. That's what I told them at the start. Even tired I knew the best option was to remove myself from this situation before it escalated.

I looked at the old lady. "You mind if I step out for a moment to get some fresh air?"

"Go on, handsome," she said in that cackling tone of hers. "There's a barrel of water right next to the gate if you want to dunk your head in."

"I'll go and find it," I said, my body protesting as I rose to my feet.

I left the room as dignified as I could and splashed my face with water, chasing away the weariness. A temporary solution at best. The effect would wear off in five minutes, if not sooner.

Stretching my legs might help, though. I wandered about in the garden, past animal statues and flowers, a stiff breeze ruffling my hair. Fireflies had taken to the edge of the tarn, and with the moon as tiny as it was, the stars shone bright and clear overhead as the wind made ripples on the water.

At the edge of the tarn I said, "No need to hide. If you want to talk, I'm right here."

Kikou appeared beside me. This close, her hair really was quite impressive with its loops and braids, all coiled up in patterns.

"I was not hiding," she said, looking out at the tarn.

I shrugged. "You weren't showing either. I'm surprised you came alone, to be honest. Would've expected the angry barrel man to come running after you the moment you set foot outside."

"What an insolent thing to say. While I apologize for his outburst, he is still the leader of Uma, and you should pay him that respect."

"I'm not sure he'd want my respect. He's got quite the chip on his shoulder."

"Konoha put that on him," she said, her voice like steel. "He was there to guard his father the last time our villages talked of peace and corroboration. And he was there half a year later when his father died in a skirmish between Konoha and Iwa. A battle on his clan's territory. A battle that should have never happened, given the agreement that lay just six months in the past. You think him a fool for his anger? He has more right to it than anyone else at that table." She clicked her tongue. "Besides, I'm not so weak as to need help watching you."

"Never said you were," I returned, though my annoyance at Uma's words dimmed a fair bit after I learned of his past with Konoha.

We were silent for a while, observing the fireflies. Then she said, "If you are tired, you can lie down. Until grandmother has heard your side tomorrow, no one will harm you."

"She's a nice lady, your grandma. You think she'll go for a ceasefire?"

Kikou's cool eyes settled on me.

I said, "Can't hurt to ask. But I'm hopeful she hasn't danced with the Tsuchikage, too. That would complicate things."

More silence. Her lips had twitched, though, before she went back to indifference. Then she said, "Were you involved in killing Orochimaru-sama?"

Right. There was that. I glanced at her. "Did you like him?"

She gave me a hard stare. "Everyone at that table did."

"Hard to imagine. Your grandma, too?"

I took her hesitation as all the information I needed. No wonder I liked the old lady. "As I said, really nice woman, your grandma. Got a good head on her shoulders and knows a snake when she sees one."

I was making no friends, but for them to cherish Orochimaru to such a degree was strange beyond belief. "I'm not here to make enemies out of you," I went on. "But you know the state the world's in. Konoha can't just hand over Grass to Iwa—who _will_ take it if given the chance."

"What a strange thing to say. How about handing the country to those it belongs to? Is that such a foreign concept to Konoha?"

I made a dissatisfied noise in the back of my throat. "Iwa would come for you. You have no way to resist them."

Kikou's eyes blazed, a sheen to them from the fireflies nearby. "We are resisting right now, Uzumaki Naruto. You're here to negotiate precisely _because_ we have not put down our weapons."

"I'm here because I prefer talking to seeing blood," I said. "You know as well as I do what would happen if we up and left. Iwa would spread like a bad smell in your country, that's what. And they'd smoke out every rebel who's got the guts to go against them. I'm sure you heard what they're doing over in Waterfall. Is there resistance? You bet. But it doesn't do a lick for them, does it? Iwa is still running roughshod over their country."

I stuffed my hands in my pockets and turned to the tarn, blinking heavily. The effect of the cold water was wearing thin already. I had let myself go there. "All I want is for us to get along well enough to stay out of each other's way," I said. "At least until we've pushed Iwa back to their country. In return, and with your help, I'll try to make life for the clans as easy as possible while this is going on. I think that'd benefit everyone."

"Most of all it benefits you and Konoha," Kikou said. She crossed her arms. "The very people that assassinated Orochimaru-sama."

I rubbed aggressively at my eyes. Always with that damn snake. "Whatever Orochimaru was to you, he was a criminal and traitor to Konoha. I wasn't the one to end him, but I would have lost no sleep doing it."

Diplomacy 101. Maybe I should have brought Shikamaru with me after all. Her expression hardened, and we didn't speak at all until we rejoined the others.

I stayed with them in the hall for a while longer, then went to catch some sleep. Kikou, who showed me to my room, was gracious enough to leave me with a parting shot. Turns out that, lovely as she was, the old lady had retired some time ago to these mountains, handing all matters of clan leadership over to her granddaughter, who now sat at the very top of the loose clan hierarchy in Grass. It would be Kikou who presided over the talks tomorrow morning.

At any other time this would have kept me awake the whole night. But by then I had gone days with rarely any shut eye. I was emotionally and physically drained, and felt it to my bones.

I was in enemy territory, for all I knew surrounded by people who hated my guts, and I was about to fall asleep like a damn stone. If Kakashi were still alive, or Shikamaru could see me right now, they'd get aneurysms, the two of them.

* * *

I startled awake to a drawn-out wail that went through my navel like an arrow. Things were breaking apart. The wailing came in a woman's pitch, punctuated by screams. The acrid smell of smoke was everywhere around me.

I threw off the covers, picked up my vest, and checked for my weapons. Everything was in order.

Face set, I pushed the paper door aside, stepping out into the cloistered hallway that ran around the inner gardens. A huge chunk of earth had reduced the courtyard to rubble, sticking out of the central fountain like a spear through a man's body.

It was early morning. A red-violet sun was rising and the residue of chakra lay thick in the air. An explosion rocked the floor; more boomed farther away.

I sent clones to find out what was going on, before moving myself, minding my step. When I reached another hallway, the wind shifted course in an instant. I wheeled around, a kunai spinning into my grip. Sparks flew. A shinobi with a bulbous nose retreated, his sword split in half from the wind racing along the edge of my steel. His eyes bulged when the wind spiraled forward from the tip of my kunai, piercing his throat.

I crouched next to him. His hitai-ate showed the leaf of Konoha. He wasn't one of my men, though.

Had Danzō sent another team? How could he have even known about this meeting? I traced back the pipeline of information but found no leak. Izuna was unlikely, too. Sakura had grown to be uncanny in her perception of character. It was damn hard to get anything past her, let alone spending time with her for years and not being found out. And anyway, the information couldn't have traveled to Konoha within a day.

Which left only one other option. Goddamn Iwa was messing things up again. I ripped the hita-ate away from the guy's arm, pocketing it, and continued my way through the compound, towards the exit.

The screaming got louder as I came out to the huge garden that led to the tarn. Trees and bushes were burning. The animal statues had crumbled in places, torn apart or torched to a black mass. High-level fire techniques. They weren't holding back, trying to implicate Konoha.

One by one my clones popped themselves, giving me a better read. To the north of the compound, the fighting was the fiercest. I grimaced when I got the information that the old lady had found her end as a human torch.

Steel clashed close to me, and I crept behind the rubble of a pair of statues. The boy I'd been talking to just hours ago was duking it out with a far bigger man, whose Konoha hitai-ate gleamed around his forehead. The kid put up a desperate fight, using the trick I had told him of proficiently enough to make me think he had trained it all night in his room after the party ended. The impostor brushed him aside with a laugh, though. Strength and experience was worth more than a few tricks with a knife.

I came barreling out of my hiding place, but the man had already buried his kunai hilt-deep in the boy's thigh and kicked his legs away. While the kid cried out and fell backwards to the floor, I rammed my knuckles hard enough into the man's stomach to crater his intestines. He slid off my fist with a moan. He'd be dead in half a minute.

I crouched next to the boy. "Atta there, that was a good fight, man. Can you stand up?"

His eyes darted around like a chased hare. I said, "Focus. Can you hear me? Can you stand?"

He nodded slowly.

"Good," I said. "Then let's get you upright." I took him by his shoulder and heaved him up. He cringed away from the pain but held fast, and then we were standing.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked, voice trembling like a wood shack during an earthquake.

"They're not mine. False flag. You know any healing?"

"No," he said, lowering his eyes. "I never thought I'd . . ."

"Get hurt enough to have to use it? Same here. Don't worry. You know anyone who can, though? If I were you, I wouldn't pull out that kunai until you got to someone who can stop the bleeding. It's in a bad spot."

He was leaning heavily on me, breathing hard. "Kikou-sama is—She's the only one, I think. The only one who can do that." He squeezed his eyes shut. "The only one who can heal," he pressed out.

"Better than nothing," I said. "Okay, listen to me. Two minutes ago she was east of here, close to the tarn. She should still be nearby. Go there, get it healed. Take the bushes and statues as cover. You're strong, kid. Think you can make it that far on your own? I'll help the others in the meanwhile."

He nodded, and I let go of him. When he took his first tentative steps, I said, "That's good. One after the other. Just like that. Go find her. She'll patch you up."

I was turning north, when the kid let out a stifled cry. He had fallen forward, driving the kunai deeper into his flesh, and now lay prone on the ground, writhing around like a buck shot with an arrow. Easy pickings for even the dumbest and weakest Iwa-nin to stumble over him.

When I lifted him into my arms he had already fallen unconscious. My hands became slick with the blood seeping through his pants. Damn it all. In this chaos of allegiances I wasn't sure I'd trust a clone with anything, let alone carrying that boy. I had to get the kid to Kikou first, and then support the others. One misstep and my chances went to nil.

I snuck with him through the garden, toward the tarn. The place was a ruin now. Uma roared in the distance; a gout of flame shot high into the morning sky, vanishing in the red of the sun.

I found Lady Kikou north of the tarn. Her nightdress was torn, half of her ear cut off. She had a wild, hunted look in her eyes. A dozen shinobi lay around her, and only two of them I recognized as other clan leaders. The rest were impostors.

"You!" she hissed, crouching low and ready to pounce.

"Don't," I said. "He's injured." I lifted the boy in my hands. "They're trying to pin this on Konoha."

The ferocious gleam in her eyes didn't subside. I laid down the boy in front of her. "He lost a lot of blood. Get to it if you don't want him to die here. There's been enough death already."

"A false flag?" she said, sinking to her knees beside the boy, her hands glowing green. She was healing him without looking away from me.

"Yeah. None of them are mine," I said.

When I tapped the corpse next to me with a foot, it let out a moan. I started. "They're not dead."

"They will be," she said. "The poison is taking a moment. They're all paralyzed."

I said, "Whatever you say—" when a rustle of clothes came from behind Kikou. I reached forward to pull her away, but a knife the length of my forearm already stuck out between her breasts. As it carved upwards toward her throat, she stabbed a kunai behind her with lightning speed, right into the ear of her assailant. She looked at me. Then she fell backwards on the shinobi who had stabbed her, and together they slumped sideways, sliding to the ground in a grotesque tangle.

I heard Uma before I saw him. I leaped back on instinct, right into the water bullet Iga was shooting at me. Before it hit me, I substituted myself with some of the rubble, landing a few feet away from them.

Their eyes were bugging out like unscrewed light bulbs, and their snarls were full of teeth and bloody foam like rabid dogs. They were screaming for vengeance.

There was no talking to them. Not anymore.

I ran. I called clones here and there to make my escape easier, but all I wanted was to get away from this place. They pursued me a fair distance, knowing the mountains better than I did by far. Clambering over the rocks I found the path I had taken the night before, and halfway down I was met with a sight for sore eyes. To the backdrop of that horrific red sunrise, Shikamaru, Subaru and a group of ten shinobi, having disobeyed a direct order, were hiking the trail leading up the mountain.

* * *

My fist was shaking on the table inside my tent. I tried to keep it still but it didn't work, so I necked a cup of sake and closed my eyes instead.

Iwa had gotten me good. As things stood, I wouldn't be surprised if the clans focused their attention exclusively on us now. I knew I would.

I had allowed myself some hope when I got the kid to Kikou and found her alive and well. I had thought, in that mercenary way which became second nature to every shinobi, that I couldn't just save the boy but could also better make my case, now that Iwa had played into my hand. A wise shinobi would have ducked out and cut his losses, but even though my chances had been minimal, I'd seen a way to clear up this mess if I helped enough people.

Then Kikou had died, quicker than blowing out a candle. She'd looked capable. How come the poison hadn't affected the guy closest to her? I had wracked my brain over that one all the way down Mount Hibiko.

"He was resistant to it, at least partially," Shikamaru said, once I had told him the details and he took a seat. "He might have been the one to poison our scouts, to make it look like the clans did it. Immunizing themselves is an old habit of shinobi dealing with poisons. It's impossible to safeguard against everything, but his training could have had him avoid the worst of it."

I looked up from my empty cup. "They're not messing around this time . . ."

"Might be different leadership than in Fang."

I grunted. "I don't want them to be clever."

"Who does? We've got to deal with it anyway. We can't afford to be slow if Iwa has already advanced this far into the country."

I tipped back another cup, then stood. I had a feeling the memories of Kikou, the kid, and the old lady would follow me for a while. But Shikamaru was right. We had to act fast, or things would spiral even further out of control. I had no time to wallow. But first I had to do something else.

Shikamaru was studying a map, humming soundlessly under his breath as his eyes rove around the rivers and ravines, looping past villages and towns, mountains and woods.

I had done him a bad turn. He was one of my oldest friends, and I had gotten in a real cheap shot when we were at each other's throats a few days ago. I still didn't know what Hinata had been thinking, asking my officers to be so overprotective, but I had gone about my anger in a bad way. And even though Chie was only a few weeks old, I wouldn't want her to think of me as the kind of man who rams a spike in a friend's heart.

All of my role models had been honorable to a fault. They'd patch things up when stuff went wrong. So would I.

"Listen, Shikamaru . . . about that thing."

He turned. "Mhh?"

"I'm sorry for how things went between us. It's . . . I shouldn't have involved Ino, that was crossing a line. I just want all of us to make it out of here alive." I hesitated, then said, "I guess I tend to get a bit stubborn in how I go about things, is what I'm saying."

Shikamaru searched my face. Then he gave me a crooked grin. "A bit? I've seen trees who listen better." He let slip a chuckle at my grimace. "Forget about it. And for what it's worth, I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have pulled your family into the argument either."

We exchanged a glance of uncertainty, both looking for whether things were alright now, before stepping at the same time toward the map.

"Have you found an angle?" I asked.

"Maybe," he said. "Iwa reacted far quicker than expected. Their activity in Grass has exploded in the past week. I don't just mean the false flags either. Those maneuvers muddy the waters, but what I'm concerned about is this." He pointed at a dot in the middle of Grass.

"This is Kumi Castle," he said, "the former home of the Kumi Clan. It's a massive structure, the only stronghold of its kind in Grass. Back when the clan was prominent it controlled many of the surrounding cities and villages, though the castle is pretty much rubble now."

"Rubble with a good position, though," I murmured. "You think Iwa will take it now? The way there is still one hell of a ride through clan territory. It'd be a ballsy move for them not to cover their bases first and go full throttle towards the middle."

"The Iwa-nin we've met in Grass haven't struck me as cowards so far. It's what I'd do in their place: keep the enemy occupied and move into a position of strength in the meanwhile. Though we might not be too late yet. I don't think they expected you to be at the clan meeting and learn about their interference. If you construct the timeline from their perspective, they're probably waiting for the clans to shift their attention to us in anger, before setting out to Kumi Castle themselves. That can't be done in a day."

"If we're fast, we might still have a chance then. How about it, want to take a gander at that place?"

He raised his brow. "You sound oddly confident all of a sudden."

"We need a win, and this will be it. Besides, I always wanted to own a castle."

His snort was comforting. "In that case I'll leave you to your daydreams," he said, "and prepare the troops for the attack." At the flap to my tent he stopped. "Before I forget, there's a scroll for you from Konoha. I put it on your desk."

I gave him a nod and my thanks.

During wartime, the post delivery system was sporadic at best, non-existent at worst. I could send official information with one of my shinobi, but private matters were left to the postal-nin that would swing by every now and then. It was a hard duty. By necessity, they were the best at stealth and concealment, and often also the fastest Konoha had to offer. Kakashi had told me that sometimes ANBU on their mandated leave would take up missions of this kind under a false name, to keep themselves sharp while not having to fight. The problem was that, once a postal-nin came by, it could take months until they made another appearance.

I hadn't finished my letter to Hinata, and the postal-nin was gone now anyway. I didn't know what was worse, that she might wait for a letter and not get one, or that she might not even expect one from me at all.

Her letter was sealed with red wax, the stamp in the shape of a spiral. I broke the seal and unrolled the scroll a little. Hinata's handwriting was beautiful—a calligraphy more art than a way to say things. For a while I looked at it without trying to understand what it meant, before I began to read in earnest.

How was I holding up? How was my command? Did I get enough sleep? Was I injured in any way? Hinata's letters usually started off with questions like those, but this time there was an urgency to them that made me feel even worse for not having sent her anything. I bit my lip and kept reading.

_Jiraiya-sama has come by recently with a gift. He brought Chie a little plush toad. You would have loved the sight, Naruto. They are inseparable. Of course Tsunade-sama wouldn't let him have his victory, and now Chie also has a matching slug. I asked the photographer to come over and take a picture. They didn't allow me to send it, since pictures aren't allowed for security reasons. I will show you once you get back._

_ We are doing well, though. Contrary to what I was told by my father about babies, Chie is a very well-mannered girl. It surprises him a great deal. He said that I was quite rebellious, say nothing of Hanabi. I cannot bring myself to believe him fully, though. I remember Hanabi as a newborn, and she was the most well-behaved and refined baby I had ever seen. As is Chie._

_ There is other news. A few days ago, Shizune called me into the hospital. I will not bore you with the details, but a patient with a chakra-related issue needed a form of experimental treatment. It had to be provided while tracking the progress inside the chakra coils and adjusting the process continually. Even Sakura had trouble with it, but I finally managed to cure the patient. I was really happy that I was able to heal her. Shizune told me that she would call me in more often now, to see where else the Byakugan can provide an advantage. It is very exciting, and some days I wonder if I can do it all. But Shizune is optimistic, so I am, too._

The letter stopped shortly after, even though there was still some scroll to go. I unfurled the rest of it. On the empty space leftover, instead of Hinata's signature, I found two handprints in orange, one tiny, the other larger.

Smilinh, I rubbed at my eyes with the ball of my palm. I read the letter a second and third time, picturing Chie with her toys, and Hinata in the hospital. Then I pushed a bunch of paper around on the table until I found a wooden box with a spiral engraved on its lid. Hiashi's gift had a blood seal that would destroy the box and its contents should it be overwhelmed by outside forces. It was quite small, though, because this kind of craftsmanship cost a fortune.

I bit my thumb, opened the box, and dumped out the few missives I had gotten from Danzō and Shikaku. Then I tied a piece of twine around Hinata's letter, before putting it inside. I gave the missives a cursory glance, selected the most important ones, and put those in also, before resealing the box.

I could have stared at that letter for ages, memorizing every word, imagining every scene in detail again and again, but duty was calling once more and I wouldn't let Shikamaru do all the preparation himself.

Yet even as I readied myself to take on Kumi Castle, I kept picturing the letter, only this time it had three handprints instead of two, and I wondered, was this really worth it?

* * *

Chapter End


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **Everything belongs to Masashi Kishimoto.

* * *

**Rokudaime**

Chapter 6

* * *

It took us less than three days to reach the castle—days in which the Genjutsu experts among my troops kept us hidden. They spun layers of concealment that made it seem as if only air was passing by. The smells of pine, birch and damp soil spread from their techniques to cover our odor, and a net of sounds extended from their fingers that made the animal kingdom seem come alive.

Still, our steps were tense. We had left the safer outskirts of the country behind. Here, clan territory stretched in every direction.

In the gray hours before dawn, Kumi Castle lay before us—a behemoth as large as a city. The forest around it had been cut for a mile and a half in every direction. The corpse of a village snuggled against the western entrance we were facing. The houses lacked roofs save for charred beams. In the middle of this former pyre, though still overshadowed by the castle's gate, was a bell tower made of stone that stood crooked and windswept, half of its topmost part undone. Its rusted bell sat askew against the wall, unused for what seemed centuries.

Shikamaru and I were crouching on a branch, our men some 200 yards below us.

"Do you think that's from the last war, or even from before that?" I asked.

"I couldn't say," Shikamaru told me. "I'm more curious about why Orochimaru made his hideout so close to Konoha when he had this bastion in his backyard."

"Maybe he didn't want to remind the clans of bad history? If we torched that place during the war, just walking to an audience would've put you in a bad mood."

"It is such a central position, though. To give it up is . . . odd."

"I guess." Kumi Castle and the area it controlled lay wedged between the familiar names of Uma and Iga. One to the east of it, and one to the west. "We'll have a bitch of a time pacifying the clans around us."

"It's either that or letting Iwa have it. The clans will bother us no matter what we do."

"True enough," I said, rising from my crouch. "Let's get to it. I don't like staring at it for much longer."

I stepped off the branch, landing in front of our troops. A few manned the headquarters, but the majority of our forces stood lined up in front of me. Subaru, who had sat on a boulder away from the rank and file, came to me, his eyes bulging.

"Anything?" I asked.

"Nothing, sir. The castle appears empty."

"And behind the castle?"

"I can't say, sir. It's too far for my Byakugan."

I nodded. It would take a Hyūga of Neji's or Hiashi's caliber to see any farther than that. He resumed his place within the ranks, and I took up position in front of the lines, panning my gaze across all the faces staring at me. I kept a tight grip on my face. I couldn't afford a nervous smile. If any of them saw me jittery, their morale would be shot.

"This is it, folks. The big castle. If we get this, we get Grass. If we get Grass, we get to push Iwa back into their rocky desert." Some rookies glanced around for cues on how to behave. The rest looked on, grim and fierce. "There are four entrances to the place—north, south, east, west. Two of them are the big ones—east and west. Those are the ones we'll be taking. Shikamaru already handed out your team assignments. Those with him will take the eastern gate. The rest goes with me to the western one. Once we're inside, scour the place top to bottom, then we'll meet up in the middle. Any questions?"

In the minute of our silence, the first birds awakened to the day.

I said, "Good. Then let's get to it."

They thumped their fists on their vests. "Yes, sir!"

I leaned over to Shikamaru. "I'll go first. The moment you see us move out, start. Good luck."

"You too."

We separated into our respective halves, and I kept my eyes glued to the castle. The operation would begin once the first ray of sunshine broke through the gloom of pre-dawn.

When the gray sky was pierced by light, I fell into an easy jog. Moving under the illusions that hid us was like wading with your head underwater. From behind sounded the rustling of clothes and jingling of loose equipment. I stepped up my pace. My strides became longer, quicker, more forceful. As I flew across the plain, my shinobi took it up a notch as well. Our breathing unified, became one in nervous excitement. Then all of us were running, I the tip of the spear.

The distance shrunk. When the Genjutsu couldn't contain us anymore, it distorted, then tore like wet paper over our heads, revealing us to the world. Halfway to the castle, we were out in the open, and my heart beat hard and fast. The earth underground was compact dirt. Dust puffed up on each step. I strained my senses to extend as far as possible. A boulder, a gout of flame—anything at all, and I'd be able to react. Let them come, I thought. Let them damn well come. I'd break them apart.

We pulled level with the walls, passing through the ruined village. When we reached the gate, no one attacked us either. The run had been quick, but I was short of breath anyway, with all those people behind me.

"Are we good?" I asked Subaru.

His Byakugan stared off into the distance. "Nothing for two miles, sir." When he turned east, though, he stiffened. "There is . . . Nara-san is under attack, sir. I cannot see everything, but his men appear to be fighting."

So we hadn't been fast enough after all. "Can you make out more?"

"I'm sorry, but it's right at the edge of my vision. I would have to get closer."

"Then we'll do that. Listen," I said to my men, "Shikamaru has come under attack. Forget scouring the place for now. We're going to move through the castle, flank Iwa, and give them a piece of our mind!"

I was raising my fist to the sky when the ground gave a low, piteous moan, followed by a deep-set rumbling, as if Gamabunta had tripped miles away and the aftershock of his fall was only now reaching us. The ground under our feet started trembling.

I turned sharply. "Subaru!"

He was staring at his feet, his eyes pinched in an effort to see farther into the earth. It was one of the few weaknesses the Byakugan had—its vision into the ground was only a fraction of a Hyūga's normal visual distance.

The moment his eyes blew wide open, I screamed, "Scatter!"

The earth exploded upward. Dirt and debris was raining down on us as the ground ruptured, driven apart like flesh by steel. I landed outside of this blood and earth geyser, two rookies on my shoulders. A veteran kunoichi touched down next to me with two more on her back. The same repeated itself all over, as I heard the screams of people I had been talking to the past month.

At the sight of the dust covering the whole village, a blackness crowded my chest, tying me to the ground. Small shards of wood poured from the sky, sticking to my vest, the bigger ones bouncing off.

Subaru was talking to me. "Iwa . . . ambush . . ."

At those words, the black inside me thinned out, became hot red, and I snapped out of my daze. A growl pushed past my lips as I darted into the billowing dust. They thought they had the advantage with this? That we were easy pickings because none of us could see in this dust storm?

I bared my teeth in a snarl and pressed my hands together. A whirl of chakra cut a circle of clarity around me. I blasted enough chakra through my pathways to keep the windmills of Fire Country spinning for centuries. The circle expanded, pressing dust and dirt away. Wind was howling in my ears. I slammed my hands onto the ground, and with this last gesture sent wind and earth spinning up and away.

I rose to my feet in a field of debris, surrounded by Iwa-nin on three sides. At my feet lay a boy of seventeen with barely some fuzz to his face. Only a week ago he'd told me he sent all his money to his civilian grandmother in Konoha. Now, sharp rocks the length of my arm protruded from his bloody back.

When the first Iwa-nin came at me, I pushed past his defense in two punches, grabbed his head, and smashed it on my knee. The second and third Iwa-nin met a similar, ruthless fate. Then they put me in a six man pincer. Before they got anywhere, two of them sank to the ground like sacks of meat. Subaru had cut them down with precise strikes. The rest of my troops had awakened to the fight. The dizzying cacophony of war set in around me.

I resisted the temptation to fall into that red pit. It was heavy and mindless. I couldn't afford that anymore if I wanted my people to make it out of this alive. The Chūnin at my feet had been the first death under my command. I'd damn well make it the last one.

"I need to get a better look at things," I said to Subaru as I pushed through the fighting toward the bell tower, calling up clones and sending them to help where they could. The more I called, the weaker they got. They didn't have to be strong, though. If they provided even half a second of distraction, they would be useful.

Subaru and I scaled the wall of the tower, up to the top where the bell sat askew. Rubble and bodies littered the area before the western gate. Like flashing lightning, shinobi met in an endless clash of steel. The battle had stretched away from the gate, into the forest, where two fireballs arced over the treetops and a wall of earth sprung up in answer half a mile north of them.

The hole the Iwa-nin had come through spanned the entirety of the village's plaza. Had it been a team effort? Or a single technique, worked by one shinobi? If the latter, we were in deep trouble. The chaos down below made it hard to answer any of my questions.

"Do you see anyone down there that could be responsible for the hole?"

"I don't think so, sir," Subaru said, glaring into the madness. "They're matching us in number and strength, but there is no one that . . ."

He trailed off, and I asked, "What is it?"

"There's someone approaching from the north, sir, and fast. His chakra reserves are enormous." Subaru took a step back. "Sir, he's familiar. He's—"

I tuned out Subaru, my eyes zeroing in on the forest north of Kumi Castle. I sensed him as well now, and the hairs on my neck stood straight like soldiers, saluting his entrance. The miasma that was Rōshi's chakra proved hard to forget. How he had tricked me with that sealed scroll still left a sour taste in my mouth.

Had it been only us, I would've leapt down the tower already, locking horns with him to find out who was the better shinobi now that I had no debilitating injuries.

But it wasn't just us. I had so many people to protect in this battle, I barely knew where to start. The thought of even more deaths under my command was a dark spot in my mind.

"I need an update on Shikamaru's situation," I told Subaru. "Get to a position where you have better vision, then report back to me. I'll hold off Rōshi in the meanwhile."

Then I stepped off the tower, letting gravity pull me down. It was time for an entrance Uzumaki style. Ol' Thousand Face still had a few cards to play.

Hundreds of clones popped up around me mid-flight, crowding the air with green Jōnin vests and blond hair. The first row and I landed in a crouch that equaled the explosions around us in thunder. We blasted off, cratering the ground in our wake. The second line of clones followed, then the third and fourth. Soon the bell tower was a waterfall, hundreds of me flooding the village in front of the castle, as if a broken dam had given in at last.

I split away from the wave, rushing to meet Rōshi as long as he was still away from the main battle. That and the clones were all I could do to help my shinobi. I thought about sending some to Shikamaru. At that distance, though, they would be useless idiots and more danger than help. Shikamaru was the smartest person I knew, though. He had to be fine.

Rōshi greeted me with a snarl. "You."

I growled. "Yeah, me."

Then we leapt at each other.

* * *

The world around me was a crater. The morning sun had given way to rain, turning it into a muddy pit. Wet dirt, grass and blood specked my face, hair, arms and legs, and everything else in between. Rōshi's beard was crusted brown. A coat of filth ringed his eyes.

He vanished from my sight. At the squeak of muddy boots, I turned, my arm encased in wind. I sliced the boulder coming at me apart and met Rōshi mid-air with a kick that sent wind and mud tearing at him. He got some more of it in his eyes and hollered a curse. Turning on my axis, I pushed myself forward with a blast of wind, speeding up and spinning. This time my foot connected. There was a short struggle as we fell down, then the force of the kick overwhelmed him. I torpedoed him towards the ground, where he bounced before sliding hard through the mud.

As I was about to press the attack, the gaping maw of an earth dragon rose from the ground. A clone pulled me out of the collision course, but Rōshi had anticipated the dodge. A muddy cannonball hit me square in the stomach. My clones exploded into smoke, while I slammed into the ground at the other end of the crater.

My world spun. A barrage of mud projectiles kept me pinned to the ground. I lifted my arms to shield myself.

When I blinked, I had a moment of mental displacement as the memory of a dying clone distracted me. I saw myself standing next to a kunoichi from Konoha who had lost her footing in the blood-slick grass. She was young and puking, sitting next to another Konoha-nin whose giant stomach wound was half-closed on one side while the other was leaking guts. I told her to get up. She stared at me, no understanding in her eyes. It was Izuna, dark hair tied back in the fashion Sakura had taught her for combat. Some of it was sticking to the snot and sweat on her face. Then the clone took a brace of shuriken to the back of my head.

Another blink, and Rōshi was in front of me, fist cocked back. I took the hit, which drove me deeper into the crater, then screamed at him with enough wind and fury to blast him off me. Izuna's face came up in my mind again and again, and I kept screaming even when the wind was already gone.

I dashed out of the muddy indention I had left in the crater and hurled myself forward.

"Sir!"

When Subaru landed behind me, the ticker in my chest went up like an exploding tag. I had forgotten that I sent him to gather information. This crater was no place for an ordinary shinobi. I called up another wave of clones. Half of them went to support my troops. The other half leapt into suicide against Rōshi.

"Report," I bit out. When I stopped moving, my sides hurt.

"It's the clans," Subaru told me, his eyes flickering over my shoulder where Rōshi was decimating my clones. I got no memories from them: my own death was a common enough occurrence that it struck me neither as strange nor as impactful. "Nara-san is breaking under the attack. They have him surrounded with Iwa and are slowly gaining ground. He might be able to hold for a few more minutes, but—"

"Losses?" I asked, half-expecting Subaru to shake his head. I had faith. Despite fighting against superior numbers, Shikamaru would have strategized a way to keep them alive.

"I have no concrete numbers, but it seems like half is already gone."

My knees turned to water. Half? The black mass writhing inside me was growing, pushing everything else away. This time there would be no anger to blast it to smithereens. It would keep hollowing me out.

"Sir!"

Subaru's panicked cry made me look up. Rōshi was done with my clones. He looked more annoyed than frustrated. And why would he be anything else? He was playing a game for time, and he was winning.

"Call the retreat," I said to Subaru. My voice sounded dead to my ears, and dulled, as if coming from far away. "We're leaving for Shikamaru's side. Tell the men to get there quick."

Rōshi raised his eyebrow. He had heard my order. "Going so soon, Uzumaki?"

I had no witty comeback for him.

I leapt out of the crater, and from there took off alongside the wall of Kumi Castle, Subaru and the rest of my shinobi falling in beside me. Rōshi only made a token effort at following us. His objective was the castle, and he had reached that without a problem.

Eyes downcast we ran east, the rain lashing our faces while the cheers of Iwa were rising behind us.

* * *

The city we paused in for the evening during our retreat was a ruin hours south of Kumi Castle. In every war it had been reduced to rubble. Without fail, the people had built it up again, only for the cycle to repeat itself. Until a little more than a decade ago. The families who had been living here were either scattered throughout nearby villages or migrated farther west into the bigger cities near the border to Rain Country.

I was sitting on the top of a tower. It was overgrown with moss and overlooked most of the woods. The rain had stopped a while ago, and the afternoon sun made the wet leaves shine like tear-stricken faces. I lifted a jug of sake to my lips and took a draft, looking out at the world, trying but unable to forget.

My mind had been playing through my clone's memories for a while now. It was a theatre that gave shape to the horror lodged in my gut, and filled out the colors for me as I caught up to what I had heard and seen but not quite understood.

I had known brutality before. Having seen it from a thousand angles, I had become immune to my own death. That of other people? Not so much. The more revolted and struck my clones had been, the more I was. I forgot a lot, but the really ugly memories stuck around. Before today, though, every time I had tried to protect someone, it had worked. Now I saw Izuna again and again. She was puking into the grass, looking lost, her face smeared with blood and dirt. After my clone had died, she did too, and she was one of dozens that I saw firsthand.

Overall we had lost one third of our troops, most of that on Shikamaru's side. He had killed Iga and Uma himself, but the clans had been aided by more Iwa-nin, dwindling his numbers fast. Which meant the clans were now reduced, and so were we.

I wished I could say that if my clones were stronger over long distances, we wouldn't have lost so many. But that was a lie. I didn't wish for it. How many more of those memories could I take? Whoever had put that technique on the Forbidden Scroll was a smart person. My money was on Jiji.

Dangling my feet from the tower, I leaned back and squeezed my eyes shut. Another memory was coming up. I tried drinking it away but my hand shook and some of the sake spilled, dribbling down my lips. My hand scrambled across my chest until it found the swirl-pendant. I gripped it hard, as if it was the last solid thing on earth. I thought of Chie and the evening on my father's stony nose, when all the lights had come alive and left Konoha a stunning, shimmering place within the dark.

It didn't last. I saw Izuna again. I thought she had Hinata's face for a moment, but then it was her old one, full of blood. I let loose a laugh, a growl, I didn't know what it was. The next moment I heard something shatter next to me, and my eyes shot open. My hand was red. Shards lay scattered around my arm, and I held a few more in my clenched fist, the bottle gone.

I stayed like this for hours, until the sun gave way to rain again and washed away the blood. Raindrops battered away at me. I didn't care. It had taken almost a day, but it was becoming easier to focus. I had my mind on a single memory. I sunk into it, tried to live it from every perspective. The rain helped. It made it easier to recall how Hinata's steps had whispered across the water, the moon shining on her wet hair, the rushing water from the waterfall concealing my steps as I watched her dance. I hadn't known people could move with so much grace. It had taken me years afterwards to admit it, but I was sure that was the moment when I first fell in love with her.

Steps came up behind me, splashing. "You should come inside. It'll be a cold wind tonight. If you stay up here, you'll freeze to death."

The memory of Hinata vanished like a clone. Shikamaru stood above me in combat slacks, holding up his torn vest as a shield against the rain.

I said, "Grass is done for, Shikamaru. The castle is Iwa's and our troops are almost halved. We've got nothing left to do here. It's all gone to shit."

"Maybe. Maybe not. There might be some options left. We can talk about that inside, though. I wouldn't let a dog sleep outside in this weather, let alone a friend." Rain was leaking through the holes in his vest, onto his face.

"It would take more men than we have to get a grip on Grass. We can't."

"There's always some way to go forward."

"Do you think so?"

"It can't hurt to think so." He paused, then added, "This is the first time I see you like this. Get a grip, Naruto. There's always a way."

I looked back at the sky pouring down on us. "This place is done for."

He murmured under his breath. I wouldn't be surprised if it was his favorite word. "Get up now, or I'll have my shadows drag you inside in front of everyone else."

"I'm your commanding officer." All I wanted was for him to leave me alone with the one good memory I had made out among the hundred horrible ones.

He narrowed his beetle-like eyes at me. There was a tortured look to them that was gone a moment later.

"Do you think I care?" he said quietly. "I lost dozens today, some of whom I've known for years. I can stomach your reprimand. Now act like a commanding officer and get up. I've had it with this day. You're not about to make it any worse."

He reached me his arm, and after a moment's hesitation I took it, letting him pull me to my feet. I was wet and dirty, my sandals squeaking and splashing as we walked inside the tower and down the spiral stairs. Torches lit the path. They were buoys of light in a sea of darkness. Not many, but enough to point the way.

Shikamaru stopped under one of the torches as we were halfway down the tower. "You don't want them to see you like this. Your morale is their morale. If one goes under, the other follows."

He was right in that I made a sorry sight. Given our current situation, I wasn't sure what exactly morale would get us, but prettying up took little enough effort. I enveloped myself in a cocoon of wind, setting the torch and its shadow see-sawing.

Once I was dry, we went down to the main hall adjacent to the tower. It was a solid building of stone with a room at the back that held a table and a rickety bed. The smell of barley gruel filled the hall. In one corner, anyone who had a passing knowledge of the healing arts was treating the wounded. I avoided looking there. I'd see Izuna in every one of them.

The other shinobi were eating or warming up around fires, talking in hushed conversation. They quieted down when we crossed the hall.

"Strong now," Shikamaru said under his breath. "Don't let them see weakness."

I wasn't keen on the charade but still squared my shoulders, firmed my steps, and strode toward the room at the end of the hall. A kunoichi caught my eye. She sat near the fire, holding a bowl of gruel. I nodded at her. What little fire was left in me, I put into that nod. I did the same to every other shinobi crossing eyes with me. When at last Shikamaru closed the door behind me, I sank into a chair. It had been an exhausting walk.

"That wasn't too bad," Shikamaru said, taking the seat on the opposite side of the table. He sound-proofed the room with a minor illusion. "Some kind of speech would have been good, but we can give one tomorrow once we've come up with a plan."

"What makes you so sure that we'll have a plan by then?"

He leaned back in the chair. "Necessity."

The only necessity I saw right then was getting more sake. I was an idiot for having crushed that bottle and I told Shikamaru as much.

He pulled out a cigarette and lit it with a stroke of his fingernail. He blew out smoke. "I don't think you're an idiot."

I put my chin in my palm and studied him. He looked miserable, and yet he bore himself with a sense of confidence that amazed me. With all that death today . . . Was he feeling the same as me and just hid it better? Maybe it was because he knew he could think his way out of every situation. If only I were as smart as him right now. I could have used some of that confidence.

"Man," I said with a tired smile, "if I were a girl, I'd be all over you. No wonder Ino's fallen for you. Temari too, now that I think of it. Anyone else? What about Sakura?"

Talking about inconsequential things felt good.

Before I could continue, Shikamaru interrupted me. "Are you still drunk?" The tip of his cigarette glowed red. He shook his head. "Stop skirting reality, Naruto. We've got problems to deal with."

His words struck me silent. I stared over his shoulder at the wall. I didn't think about anything in particular, but when he let his cigarette fall to the floor, putting it out with his foot, I said, "What did you mean with necessity?"

He took out another cigarette and lit that, too. "We're here to stay, is what I mean. Danzō won't recall us. For better or worse, Grass has become our burden to bear, and we have to make the best of it."

"That doesn't give us any kind of plan, though."

"It doesn't right now. But we might have one by tomorrow if we think things through. It's not like we have anything else to do."

So we did. The night dragged on. Moonshine filtered in through the barred window. One thing was clear: without more troops, we held no candle in Grass. As we were going through the options, I wondered how Shino was doing and if he had met the same kind of trouble.

In the end, Shikamaru convinced me to swallow my pride and request reinforcements from Danzō, even though he'd told us that there wouldn't be any. It was one of the few things we could do. It would hurt my chances of becoming Hokage, but even as I thought that, I knew it to be a selfish thought and abandoned it.

The bare bones of a plan laid out, Shikamaru went to a corner of the room and fell asleep with his head on his vest. The floor was littered with cigarette butts. An empty pack lay on the table, and I sat staring at it for quite a while.

Then I took a scroll from an inner vest pocket, unsealed paper and ink, and set to write the first of many letters that would find its way to Konoha, long before my letter to Hinata was ready.

I addressed the letter to Sakura. As Izuna's mentor she had taken on all responsibility and would tell the parents.

The memory of Izuna's death came up like a specter as I wrote, and I had to steady my hand as the brush flickered across the paper as not to make my writing even harder to read.

_. . . she died bravely, fulfilling her duty as a medic-nin to the very last moment . . ._

My hand cramped around the brush. We had no body for an appropriate farewell ceremony. All these people would feed the ground, and their spirits would wander, untouched by the deliverance of fire.

Eventually I finished the letter and began another one. I did as many as I could before my sight became blurry and I fell asleep. Once I woke because Shikamaru had started squirming, but I was too tired and closed my eyes, and was gone again a second later.

When I woke up for real, snoring came from Shikamaru's corner. The sun was casting a golden bar into the room, shining on my arms which I had used as a pillow.

It had been a strange dream. Full of violence and murder, but also of beauty and grace. I had seen many people in it. Some I knew, some I didn't. Hinata was there, and Izuna and Kikou. Somewhere Danzō lurked as well.

As I stood and stretched, my mind wandered, trying to piece the dream together. I had fought in front of a waterfall. Hinata had been dancing there, but now the water was running red and boulders blocked most of it, damming it up.

I stopped mid-stretch.

How much did it take to reroute a waterfall? Or to make a dam explode?

I lowered my arms, staring at Shikamaru in wonder. His faith that something would turn up had kept me from going to pieces yesterday. By now I should have gotten used to him being right, but it still kept amazing me when it happened.

They said to think outside the box. I said screw that. A box was too small. An Uzumaki ought to think bigger. Thinking outside an entire country was more my style.

I needed more troops—that much we had established yesterday. My salvation lay not in Danzō, however, but in Waterfall. The guerrilla efforts of their remaining shinobi kept Iwa on its toes. No one would dispute that Waterfall as a whole belonged to Iwa, though, since the fight there was coming to a slow and painful end. And a renewed, concentrated uprising was unlikely, as most of the resistance had split and spread around the country. All they had left was raiding convoys and being as much of a nuisance as they could. To that effect, Konoha provided them with weapons, food and information, hoping to keep the struggle alive for as long as possible. Could I convince them to help me? What were my options?

I looked at Shikamaru still sitting asleep against the wall. This time I wouldn't go alone. I had the best mind in the Elemental Countries at my side. The best friend, too, come to think of it. I'd be an idiot not to take him with me.

I threw on my vest and made to wake him up.

The day was wasting away, and we had plans to make.

* * *

Chapter End


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **Everything belongs to Masashi Kishimoto.

* * *

**Rokudaime**

Chapter 7

* * *

Waterfall was more beautiful than I remembered. Hundreds of rivers threaded the country, beginning with their currents rushing down rocky shelves in the northern highlands, and evening out into vast lakes and vistas in the southern parts.

Shikamaru, Subaru, and I crouched on a branch, hidden by foliage at the border between high- and lowlands. Two trees away, a patrol of four Iwa-nin leapt by. They were young. Not Genin young, but Izuna young. One was talking about the shapely breasts of some unnamed woman, and what he'd love to do with them: kneading, squeezing, pulling, pinching, sucking, fucking . . . the list seemed inexhaustible. The other shinobi laughed cheerfully, almost innocently. I kept staring at them until they were out of sight, forcing myself to think that for sure they had been talking about the rape of some upright Waterfall girl - a farmer's daughter, a smith's sister, the miller's wife: it didn't rightly matter. Important was the thought, the attempt to scrub anything benign or honorable off them so that later on, should we meet in these forests, I would not hesitate because of their young and carefree faces.

"That was the fourth patrol today," Shikamaru said. "That's three more than we anticipated."

"And far less of the resistance than I'd hoped," I said.

We had entered the area days ago, handing affairs in Grass to a Jōnin of high standing, a second cousin to Shikamaru. I left him precise orders and emergency plans, and was reassured by the high tones in which Shikamaru kept speaking of him. He was a better choice than Haru, whom I had wanted to include into the chain of command at first, but then decided against. Ever since my first face-off with Rōshi, Haru had grown zealous enough to make even the most religious priest redden in envy.

Once I had tried to join my men around a fire, a bottle of fine sake in my hand and a ready hello to my troops on my lips—not the first such occasion, and I'd hoped not the last—but what greeted me were stupefied faces, wide eyes, bashful and shy glances so different from their usual rough nature that I thought I was having a bad dream for a moment. I didn't stay for long with them that night. At least as I was. Once out of sight, I waited a while longer until they were too drunk to detect anything but the immediate and pressing need for more liquor, and then joined them with the indistinct face of a shinobi who may or may not have been a Chunin, and may or may not have had brown hair and dark eyes—who was to tell the difference to any other such man? What I heard that night, two cups into the next bottle, was nothing short of mythical. Uzumaki Naruto, Konoha's Thousand Face, was half-man, half-god in Haru's stories, and of stories he had more than enough after several years serving under me.

The younger shinobi lapped it up. The older ones stayed silent, but nodded here and there. I had lost so many, and yet what they saw was not that half of them were dead, but rather that half of them were alive because one clone or another had pulled them out of harm's way.

"He still lost a lot," one of them said eventually.

"Ay, he did." They shared another bottle. Involuntarily I leaned in. Was this where they would start lambasting me? "But remember that chakra, man? I still do. I can still"—the speaker shuddered, necked another cup, continued—". . . still feel it, if I really try to remember. It's like the devil's own chakra, I tell you, what that Rōshi put out. Seeps in your bones and sticks around, it does. And I'm not sure I'll ever get rid of it."

"So?"

"What so? That's how things are. You saw him fight against that monster, didn't ya? How long would you have held out, eh? Half a minute? Five seconds?"

"And he almost had him too," Haru added.

"For sure. It's those damn clans. Scum allying with Iwa." The man hacked up a big gobbet and spat into the grass. "I hope we get to them soon. My brother was with Nara. I'll hang them by their fucking entrails."

And so it went on, story by story, until I decided to leave them well alone. No, had I handed command to Haru, without a doubt he'd have tried to deliver Kumi Castle as an offering to me, regardless of our recent loss or any strategic evaluation. I wondered if our very first encounter with Rōshi had knocked something loose in his head.

Presently, back in the forests of Waterfall, Subaru let his eyes fade back to their normal state. Even if slightly larger than usual, they'd scarcely put you in the mind of a Hyūga. "The patrol is gone, sir. We can move on."

Our group was small, but that made it easier to move unseen, and Subaru's Byakugan was enough to satisfy Shikamaru's safety concerns. Also, contrary to the clans of Grass, the resistance here was our ally. Negotiations should be easier with them. I still brought Shikamaru along because, frankly, last time I tried my hand at diplomacy I had noticed how little I actually understood of it.

To negotiate at all, though, we first had to find them. Now and then we heard stories about successful raids, of resistance fighters taken prisoner, of stalemates that left the countryside in ruins. When we looked up these places though, we found nothing. Both sides spread so much intelligence and counter-intelligence through the civilian sector, nothing seemed real.

I should have requested information from Konoha before coming here. We supplied the resistance, so someone in the hierarchy should know where to deliver the goods. Asking would have tipped off Danzō though, that things were less than stellar. I couldn't find it in me to do that, especially now that I had gotten reports of the Water-Lightning front before setting out.

Shino had consolidated more territory for Konoha, his balance sheet a roadmap of miniscule victories. His advances proved small and precise in every way, gaining tiny advantages that began to pile up as his campaign moved on. Progress, the report had read, was slow but inevitable.

I'd shredded the report into dust the moment I was done reading. For a moment I had lost control of the wind chakra running through my palms. I couldn't say if I was angry at him or at myself, but I knew that I had a fierce heat in my belly that put a smith's bellows to shame.

Shikamaru said, "I don't want to know where you are with your thoughts right now. That's an ugly face."

"I was thinking of Rōshi."

He arched a brow. "We'll worry about him once we're back in Grass. Finding the resistance is our priority right now."

I had us search for two hours longer than planned, my thoughts about the Hat and the responsibility to my command driving me on, and we continued until it got too dark. A cave next to a waterfall gave us shelter that night. We couldn't risk a fire to cook fish, so we ate provision food hard to surpass in how bland and dry it tasted.

Shikamaru allowed himself a few cigarettes, concealing the smell with a Genjutsu. He was almost as miserable in the art as I was. The few things he knew, he'd learned in order to smoke in the wild, or to set up a small, soundproof area for a meeting. He could uphold neither without focus.

Subaru was the only one decent at Genjutsu among our group. I'd worked him hard these past days, though, and since restful sleeping had become difficult for me after Kumi Castle anyway, I took the worst shift off his hands. He'd kept us safe from a lot today. He'd earned himself a good night's rest.

A while later, Shikamaru roused me from a restless sleep where I had woken every few minutes out of breath and sweaty.

"It's your turn," he said.

I sat up, groggy. "Thanks."

He lowered his voice. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

I'd given him that line for years now. He looked unconvinced, but let it go in the end.

As he lay down, I drank water from my canteen and trickled some on my face. It had been a bad dream—the kind you wished to forget about quickly but which stuck around forever.

Shikamaru was asleep within minutes.

I sat staring at the cave wall, half-listening to the sounds outside, while my thoughts ran away with me. This whole situation was wrong. I was hiding in some damn cave in Waterfall, days away from my troops, with nothing to go on but elusive rumors about the whereabouts of my target. I had brought the clans against me. I'd shattered my army against the walls of Kumi Castle. And if that weren't enough, I had also fought a Jinchūriki twice now, and couldn't call either outcome a real victory. And the worst of it? Try as I might, I couldn't see where it went wrong. In each of those situations I had acted according to what I thought was best. I'd switched it up, too, but the outcome had been equally terrible whether I listened to advice or not. This feeling of inevitability, as if nothing I did was of any consequence, drove me up the wall.

I rubbed my tired eyes with the heel of my palm. The clouds outside had shifted, letting in a single bar of moonlight that shone onto the wall.

I stared at the light. It put me in the mind of Hinata, and then of Chie. After checking if Shikamaru and Subaru were both asleep, I hesitantly reached out to the light, forming a shadow bunny with my hand. Then, growing bolder, almost excited, I shaped different animals with my other hand, slowly assembling all the set pieces needed for a cute little story. The animals looked slightly deformed, but I wasn't worried by that. I had enough time to experiment. The moonlight wasn't running away anytime soon, and the bunny and its companions were far happier than my previous thoughts.

Would Chie like it if I showed her?

I paused. The image of my daughter, the fuzz of her hair, her weight in the crook of my arm, eyes with the same gentle shade as her mother: they all came together in that moment, a memory so instantaneous and tangible it felt like reality itself in that moonlit cave.

My eyes did a weird shivery thing. I continued doing shadow animals, then stopped, brushing my fingers across my cheek. They came back wet. Why? I tried to stop it, but I couldn't. My left was still doing the bunny. The more I looked at it, the more tears came beading down my face. I sat still, unmoving. I wasn't sobbing, but I had no idea what was happening and it just wouldn't stop. My face was wet and no matter how often I wiped at my eyes, a moment later my vision was blurry again.

I couldn't say for how long this went on, but I emptied out like a bucket spilled from an upper window, and eventually Chie was smiling at me, bubbling with laughter. Hinata stood behind her. I walked over to them and crouched to pick up Chie and give Hinata kiss, but they weren't there anymore. The ground under my feet fissured. Izuna knelt in the grass staring up at me, a scream distorting her face. We were being pelted by stones. I looked around wildly for whoever threw them but they hit me square in the face, tearing my skin.

Whenever I reached out to deflect them, my hands stopped just short. I stared helplessly at Izuna. She wore Hinata's face now, blood running from her brow along the ridge of her nose, her healthy eye full of concern, the scarred flesh around her other one filling with rust-red sludge like a river delta of oozing blood. More stones came flying. I threw myself forward to shield her with my body but I couldn't move an inch. Roots held me fast as a fist-sized stone hit Hinata and her head shot sideways. I screamed.

My throat hurt as I kept on screaming until a slap broke me out of it. I looked up, dazed. Shikamaru stood over me with a face torn between horror and anger. A tight ball lodged in my throat as the realization set in that I had fallen asleep during my shift.

"Shikamaru, I'm . . ."

"Save it," he said. "We have to get out of here."

The adrenalin woke me fully. I was up within seconds and had my vest on. We hightailed it out of the cave, away from the waterfall. I followed Shikamaru, who was looping through the forest, his body tense as a bowstring. How loud had my scream been? Subaru behaved as if it had reached even the farthest corners of Waterfall and was still echoing in some caverns there.

Subaru kept screening our surroundings. I did, too, though part of me was still back in the cave. Staying alert on shifts had been drilled into us for decades. Damn. Years of experience were supposed to make you a better shinobi, not the other way around.

"Incoming!" Subaru called out. A second later, a boulder cut off my thoughts, and we split up as it tore through the branches.

I fell, fingered a brace of shuriken, sent them sailing. They deflected the senbon on route for Shikamaru, covering him as he touched down on the floor. A kunai with an explosive tag was coming for my face as I landed, but a pulse from Subaru's palm sent it flying sideways, where it exploded with an unreal noise.

I eased into a stance. We still had a good synergy, and I had counted only four Iwa-nin—one patrol. It shouldn't take us long to have them checked out.

They didn't know us as Konoha-nin either. We had hidden our headbands before entering Waterfall. Shikamaru knew how to use his shadows subtly, which made him all the more frightening; and Subaru was stronger than most in close combat even without his Byakugan.

I was more restricted. Wind users were a rare breed outside of Suna. Wind users that could use clones the way I did even more so. Konoha's Thousand Face had earned enough infamy by now that they would identify me immediately should I use more than one or two clones.

I was about to engage them when Shikamaru signed me to get the hell away. I leapt over to him as a lance of fire burnt through the underbrush and a second patrol came rushing at us.

"The area is swarming," Subaru said as we jumped back into the treetops.

"We can't kill them quick enough," Shikamaru added. "They'll pin us down."

"Let's lose them," I said, blasting off the branch.

The nightly dance in the forest began, though we were flailing and stepping on toes rather than making a good show of it. We had to be quick if we didn't want this to go on until sunrise.

I lost track of how long we fled. They shouted after us, calling us rebel scum, and after a while it seemed as if all of Iwa was following us. Unwittingly we had trailed a big net, dragging every Iwa-nin in this godforsaken area behind us.

Shikamaru was torn up, his hair loose, the sleeve of his mesh shirt missing. He was a capable fighter, but no good on a prolonged chase, not like Subaru and I. He still had some juice left, though, and for another half hour we gave it our best, weaving between attacks and oncoming patrols.

But there were just too many. Was it bad timing on our part? Had we missed important intel regarding Waterfall? When Shikamaru tripped next to me and I caught his fall, I knew this was about the end of it. A shinobi lost his fleet footwork last, but when it was gone, they were done for.

I heaved him onto my back. He murmured something under his breath and I said, "Hold tight. I'll get us out of here." Then, "Let's go, Subaru. We've got to make it before sunrise!"

Subaru glanced at Shikamaru, then at me, and nodded to himself, standing still. Hadn't he listened? We had to get away, and fast at that.

He gave me a strange smile, and a short bow. "Send Hinata-sama my regards and devotion, sir. It was a pleasure serving under you."

"What? No, wait—"

Before I even had time to issue an order, Subaru leapt back into the direction we had just come from, and was gone half a second later while I stood rooted to the spot. The dark trees around me elongated, growing together claw-like above my head. My body screamed at me to follow Subaru and bring him back, but I still had Shikamaru on my shoulder and couldn't use my clones.

I squeezed my eyes shut, then let out a low growl. The sky was getting lighter. I'd find a cave for Shikamaru, and go out by daylight. Subaru could still be fighting by then. He was a Hyūga, after all. Or maybe they would take him hostage so he could be interrogated. Either way, I'd turn over every rock until I'd found him.

By the time the sky turned purple-red I had reached a good cave far enough away and sheltered from sight. Inside, I put down Shikamaru. He was out of it. Dried blood marred his face like bad finger paint.

The soft rushing of a nearby stream and the first beams of sunlight filtering into the cave made my eyelids grow heavy. This time I was prepared, though, and slapped myself hard enough to really feel the sting before rising to my feet.

I was about to leave the cave, when footfall sounded outside. A kunai spun into my hand. The steps became louder. Shadowed by the light streaming in from behind, a dark figure blocked the entrance to the cave.

Fighting down the weariness, I gathered my chakra. I had Shikamaru to protect, Subaru to rescue, and a mission to fulfill—and I'd be damned before I let myself be tripped by anyone on the way this time.

* * *

"You're a lucky guy, you know that? If I hadn't found you, they'd have gotten to you by now, sure as sunrise."

"We've been looking for you," I said, sitting across the Jinchūriki of the Nanabi, my hands cramping around a cup of tea. I'd met her once before, on a mission with Jiraiya. We'd held a fierce contest over who could spit watermelon seeds the farthest, and she'd won. Over a decade later, the lines on Fū's face weren't wrinkles from laughing too hard, not anymore.

After the world had learned of the Hero Water, Waterfall became Ground Zero for the war. Iwa, Kumo, Kiri, Suna, even smaller nations, salivated at the thought of its potential, especially should they eliminate its drawbacks. When it became evident that Taki alone was unable to secure this power, Konoha—after fierce arguments with Taki's leadership—poisoned the mighty tree that produced the Water, corrupting any sample other nations might get in the future.

The Hero Water was gone from the world. The war was not, and Fū's country had fought against invaders longer than any other.

I waved away a boy serving food. The dark pit in my stomach wasn't hunger. Fū's men were searching for Subaru, while Shikamaru lay in an adjacent cave, sleeping off his exhaustion. Had I been able to go with them, I'd have felt better. But Fū was right in that her men knew the area better and should go alone.

Instead I was sitting on a rug inside a cave that was part of a larger, hidden system. Hundreds of places just like this existed on that line between high- and lowlands, and without a map it would take a century to find them all.

Waterfall might have been easy to take on the surface, but underground and against these people? Their faces were hard and pale as bone. Even the serving boy had a mean glitter in his eyes that said he'd killed too many too early in his life.

"This place is crawling with Iwa-nin," I said. "There weren't supposed to be that many."

"We increased our operations in this area," Fū said. "Once we relocate they'll take a while to cotton on to it and then follow us somewhere else."

"I take it they're not going to follow you quietly?"

She stayed mum, eyeing me over her cup of tea. Her orange eyes were sharp as teeth. I liked the old Fū much better, but I had a lot of sympathy for this one. Unable to locate her for years, Iwa must have been a blight on this country in retaliation.

"Why don't we get to the point?" she said. "Why are you here?"

"To negotiate. But I'd rather my second in command be here for it. Do you mind waiting another half hour? That should be enough."

"Iwa will strengthen their patrols after your show last night. I'll deliver this Subaru to you and then get out of this place. If you have anything to say to me, say it now."

Lady Kikou had been more courteous. Admittedly, though, it hadn't gotten her very far. My head hurt when thinking of that night. The image of Lady Kikou, steel driven through her chest as she was healing the boy, flickered through my mind.

I tipped back the rest of the tea, murmuring, "Sometimes I want nothing more than to say fuck it and blast them all to pieces."

"What's that?" Fū asked.

I had the sudden, overpowering urge for a connection with someone who understood. No matter how far we drifted apart, one thing would always bind Fū and me.

"I said I'd blow them all up." I ran my knuckles over my brows. The headache was getting brutal and stab-happy, like an Iwa-nin among a group of children from Konoha. I glanced up sharply. "Haven't you ever thought about it? To go Nanabi on them and be done with it?"

Her responding laugh was as empty and savage as her face.

She leaned forward and said, "Every day," in a whisper that was meant to sound conspiratorial, but landed just shy of insane. "Truthfully, I think about it more often than anything else. I was very close a few times, you know?" The oil lamp next to her cast a gleam into her eyes. "To just go wild and let loose, and let them have it, one at a time, and maybe even making it to Iwa and stomping on their ugly mud huts until they're nothing but red dirt and all I can hear is their screaming, begging me to leave their homes and families alone—but I wouldn't, oh, I wouldn't . . ." She pulled back. The shine was gone. "But I never followed through. Where would it get us in the long run? Iwa has two Jinchūriki. Annoying old geezers by the sound of it. Kumo as well, and Kumo isn't so far away from here either. Within a day, I'd have several Jinchūriki wrecking this country to send a message."

She said, "I think they would have done that a long time ago if not for Konoha. They know what happened in your village. They know the Kyūbi is there. I don't think they want to risk it. And neither will I. You win one battle. Then everyone loses everything afterwards. But have I wanted to? Oh yes. Sometimes I wonder what they'd write about me in the aftermath—if there is still anyone able to write, of course. 'And then the world came undone because of her.' Doesn't sound too bad now, does it? I think I'd like that shot at absolute infamy. But of course I can't."

"Of course," I said. Her little speech hadn't made my headache any better.

Fū was an exploding tag waiting to go off. I needed her, though, and for a much more selfish reason I also wanted at least a glimpse of the old Fū, to see that there was still something left of her.

Jiraiya had taught me never to go for crazy except when I absolutely couldn't help myself. In that case I ought to hit it and quit it as hard and fast as I could. Stay too long and you got burned to a crisp. His words, not mine. It was a different context, but the advice applied.

Fū's face had a hard sheen like broken glass, the corners of her lips lifted in taunting amusement. I damn well wouldn't dance with this woman. I'd be blunt and to the point, and leave verbal sparring to others.

I said, "I need you to pack up, call your people, and come with me to Grass."

For a second she was taken aback. I jumped right into that breach. It felt good to be in the surprising role again. "We've got a situation there and I have a plan to deal with it that could help both of us out."

Her composure reassembled quicker than I would've liked. She tilted her head coyly, batting her lashes. At this point the gesture was like rattling broken shutters. "What kind of situation? What plan? I am always interested in hearing solutions."

This quiet, inquisitive nature all of a sudden gave me whiplash. I powered through and told her of the plan, keeping to the bare bones of it. We'd steal back to Grass without being seen and mount another attack on Kumi Castle, this time with two Jinchūriki, more numbers, and less opposition since the clans were almost done for after that last fight.

Once the castle was secured, our combined forces would loop around to Waterfall, driving out Iwa there as well. They would take some time to respond to the attack on Kumi Castle, but just in case they were quick, we'd rig the place to blow up the moment they set foot in it. I'd rather have no stronghold in the country than one occupied by Iwa.

"That's about it," I told her. "Some night time action to get the ball rolling and keep the moment of surprise, and then we'll make a clean sweep of it, making sure to keep the numbers advantage. Two birds with one stone. It's the best option to get both of us out of the hole."

"It is, isn't it?"

The way she said it set my teeth on edge.

She leaned back on her arms, throwing back her neck and staring languidly at the ceiling of the cave. The arch she made seemed unnatural from my angle, pushing out her breasts, showcasing them in a grotesque display. I longed for Hinata, for somewhere sane and safe, all of a sudden. I felt displaced, watching myself from the side in this cramped cave, with Fū stretching on a dirty carpet across from me. I was in a country occupied by the enemy, coming from a country experiencing the same, and having killed and lost more in the past weeks than at any other time in my life. I had Izuna's face in front my eyes, clear like a portrait. It struck me again that this wasn't normal. What the hell was I doing here?

The serving boy came by with a tin tray and got our empty cups. The rattle as he left rang out sharp and disorienting, bringing the world back into clear-cut focus.

I blinked. Fū had returned to her prior position. Her lips were moving, writhing like fleshy worms set in a distant, rocky face.

"The answer is simple," she said with cold amusement. "It's a no. I don't trust you to do it right. As a leader you're worth nothing. You played the game at Kumi Castle and lost it hard, and now you want to go back to the table and gamble some more. This time with the lives of my people, so you can have your moment of glory. I don't think so. I've seen nothing so far that makes me think you'll have more success this time around."

Her words were a quick one-two combo to my face. When I grimaced, her eyes lit up. "Don't make that face, Naruto, that's not you. It really isn't." She gave a brief, cute laugh. I could have sicked up all over her carpet at the sound. "Haven't they taught you that there's always a solution to a problem? Of course there's a way for your plan to work. A way to make all this go away."

I said nothing. I shouldn't have showed her my grimace. It had been weakness, and she was pouncing now.

"You were so talkative earlier, but now you're giving me the silent treatment, huh?" She gave me a brazen look, snapping her fingers in front of my face. I disappointed her this time. "It doesn't matter," she said with a wave of her hand, settling back. "Here's the deal. I don't dislike your plan. You're just the wrong guy for it. Too honest. Too honorable. Too direct. You're not cut out for leadership, Naruto. Haven't you noticed that? You're more a guy for grunt work. The easy, dirty work. It's that simple. That old coot, Danzō? He's a damn bastard, but at least I can respect him as a leader. You? Not so much. So here's what we're going to do if you want this to happen: you'll abdicate command for the remainder of this gig and hand it over to little ol' me."

She gave me a wide smile. "You can play it up big time for your boss and your men if that makes you feel any better. Let them see you pounding your chest, being in charge and all. You can tell them whatever you want, I promise I'll corroborate." Then she was aping my voice, "_I convinced her. I fucked the daylights out of her and now she's following me around like a lost puppy_—I don't care, really. Do whatever gets you through the day. But the marching orders? They're coming from me, because yours evidently aren't worth shit. How about it? Are you in? It's two birds with one stone after all. A clean sweep to get us both out of the hole. What do you say?"

"I say you're a crazy bitch and you can go straight to hell."

She laughed. "Do you want to hit me?"

"More than anything," I said, and I meant it.

"That's too bad. I guess our negotiations have failed, then. Don't worry, though, I'm not going to throw you out on your ear. I'm a good-natured soul like that. You can have this cave and chum it up with your buddy. We'll be gone by sunrise." She rose to her feet, quick like a rat, and waved at me as she left the cave. "Goodbye, Naruto. It was good talking to you. Maybe, once you've grown up and learned a little, we can do this again. Until then, I wish you the best of luck in Grass."

* * *

After my talk with Fū, the servant boy came back in to roll up the carpets and carry them outside with other, smaller items: pillows, clothes, cups and plates and shogi boards. Then they brought in Shikamaru, dirty gauze covering the worst of his wounds. The chase had exhausted him more than I thought, because even though they manhandled him to the other end of the cave, away from the oil lamp they had left me, he stayed fast asleep.

Half an hour later, two women lugged in a long bundle of sheets. They placed it next to me and left without a word. Then the noise of Fū's people vanished from the cave altogether.

Cold certainty filled me before I even pulled the sheet away. I waited a moment longer, then took a look. I owed that much to Subaru.

Empty eyes stared back at me. On his brow, a severe burn marked the place where the Hyūga branch seal had blazed out itself and every pathway towards the Byakugan. My stomach revolted at the sight. I pulled the sheet back over his head before doubling over, retching on the ground.

When the worst was over, I wiped my mouth and crawled backwards, pulling at Subaru to drag him away, too. Two feet down the cave I stopped, my breath heavy, and stared at the flickering light of the lamp. Its low quality oil stunk, but the reek drowned out the foul odor of the messy floor.

Shivers were wracking my body. I rode them out with clenched fists, but the trembling grew stronger. Damn. Damn! He was dead because I couldn't keep my fucking eyes open. How much of a screw up can you actually become? Izuna, now Subaru, where the hell was this road leading me?

The memory of Fū kept calling me a fuck up, too, as I was writhing on the floor. Her voice, that perverse sweetness, echoed in my mind, turning what frustrated sadness I had left into a rage at her, myself, and the world.

Had it not been for Shikamaru, I would have walked outside the cave and screamed and swept the country with savage winds until no tree remained in all of Waterfall.

Fū would have wanted that, though. She would have laughed in a sing-sang at the fact that she got such a rise out of me. So I forced myself into a sitting position, and brutalized my mind, turning that seething red mass into cold and calculating anger.

Had I been too arrogant, too sure of myself?

I had my qualities—an immense fighting prowess, insane endurance, and I'd like to think, a good head for tactics once it got to the fighting—but I did lack the ruthlessness that marked men like Danzō and made them so dangerous. If I had assassinated the clan leaders instead of talking with them, they wouldn't have been able to flank my troops later. I would have never set foot into Waterfall, and Subaru would still be writing letters to Konoha and praying to his strange new gods.

I had given my soul to my command, and got it all wrong anyway. The harder I tried to save lives, the more it actually cost.

An empty laugh escaped me. How high I had put my nose, spitting on the way Danzō and others before me had handled this war. Too much pride. Far too much to admit when idealism got me nowhere, when I had to play dirty to ensure my men and I survived.

Although I wanted nothing more than to cave in her face, Fū was right. I had been a damn fool, more grunt than commander. Wasn't the result lying right next to me this very moment, hidden by white fabric?

I folded back the sheets again, laying bare Subaru's face. Then I pushed them farther down, exposing his torso and suppressing the queasy uprising of my stomach. Fresh bruises, cuts, and burns told the story of Subaru's last moments. He had been a warrior to the end, refined, ruthless, self-sacrificing. His religion had never interested me, but perhaps I should have listened more to him. Which prayers would he have wanted me to say? Which gesture would help him the most where he now wandered?

Death had come for so many in my life. My parents, before I ever got to know them, Jiji, Kakashi, Sasuke . . . After taking on the first mission as a team leader I had allowed myself to breathe easier. I had closed the door to death, hadn't I? Then Danzō gave me my command, and as if that door had never existed at all, the list of names went on with Izuna and all who died in front of Kumi Castle.

Yet even though those new names almost made me lose my mind, I could soften the blow. I had fought Rōshi to a standstill. I had sent out an army of clones to support my troops. If the door to death stood open, then not for a lack of trying to close it. After all, time and again I was throwing myself against it with all my weight. What more could be asked of me?

But Subaru? He was different. His sacrifice had become necessary because I lost my grip on reality. I had put his name on the list myself, handing out an easy invitation to the one thing I had tried to keep at bay for so long.

As I sat in the cave, I knew I would not cover Subaru's body again. His bruised flesh showed my weakness. I would look at it for as long as it took me to learn my lesson. More shinobi than Subaru fought under my command. I wouldn't fail anyone ever again because I was too afraid to get my hands dirty and my morals compromised.

When Shikamaru woke up, darkness had already settled outside. He sat silent for minutes, staring at Subaru's body in the dim light. Then he muttered a prayer under his breath and lit two cigarettes, smoking one himself and putting the other next to Subaru's head.

"Whatever happens," I said, "I won't let his death be for nothing."

Shikamaru cut the dirty gauze off his head and inspected it in his hand. "Did you meet the resistance?"

"I did."

Once I was done telling him everything, his eyes turned cold. "She really said all that?"

"In more words. I'm done playing fair, Shikamaru. I'll do what I have to if it gives meaning to all this death."

He searched my face. "What do you have in mind?"

Whatever was left over of the old Naruto, of the naivety and idealism of years past, had to go now, had to be eradicated. I couldn't see another way. It had to happen, because how many more would die otherwise?

"We will haunt this place," I said, as I put the knife to my old self. "Every patrol we find, we'll leave behind dead. I want Iwa to think that there is a new uprising. That the resistance has become cocky enough to send bold messages and Fū is about to take back Waterfall."

"They will draw forces from Grass."

"I want this country crawling with Iwa-nin," I said.

"Even if she'll never ally with Iwa, that will still make her an enemy."

"It's a risk I'm willing to take. Maybe if there's no other way left, she'll accept that her only option is working with us. Either way, there are less Iwa-nin in Grass. I'll do it by myself if necessary, but if you're coming with me, I'd be glad to have you."

Shikamaru soon sat sunken deep into his thoughts, staring blankly at Subaru's body. He never even noticed that I studied his face while he was making up his mind.

I had never looked at him like this. Line by tense line, the mask he showed the world became readable to me, and then unraveled. Emotions flitted across his face that I'd never seen in him before. Anger, disappointment, doubt, undiluted rage, and even, if I looked close enough, a spark of insanity in his eyes. Was it the same madness I felt at times? That doubt after Kumi Castle? The same craziness I had heard from Fū, amplified by a decade of leadership?

His face was like a mirror. The closeness of the moment made me uncomfortable, but I forced myself to keep looking. It felt like the first time that I was truly seeing all of Shikamaru, even the dark and ugly side, and not just an ideal I held in my head. I wondered if I saw it because I had finally recognized it in myself.

"We can't be identified," he said at length, startling me out of my observations. All but resolve was gone from his face. Now, though, I knew what lurked under the surface. "We need guaranteed kills or we can't use my shadows and your clones. Perhaps it is even better to leave out wind for the time being."

I nodded.

"The cave system in the northern highlands is enormous," he went on. "Even if Iwa scours the country for a hundred years, they will never find Fū and her people without help. And they won't be gentle in their search. The longer it goes on, the more civilians will suffer."

My thoughts had run along the same line. I rolled up my right sleeve in answer. On my forearm was a tattoo of a pipe and a tanto. Both crossed like blades under a waterfall that came spilling out of a jug. The symbol for toad gleamed in red lines on the jug's surface.

"Haven't seen that in a while," Shikamaru said. "I thought the toads aren't getting involved anymore, as long as there are no other summons in play."

I brushed my fingers across the ink. Nostalgia was getting to me, but I pushed it away. "I'm not asking them to get involved directly. I just need them to get me something from Konoha."

I smeared blood across the tattoo and called on Gamakichi's son. Emerging out of the whirling smoke, Gamageko looked around in confusion until his gaze fell on me. He wore his father's old childhood vest.

"Naruto! It's really you, isn't it?" Gamageko hopped from one webbed foot to another, clapping his hands. "It's been a while. How are you? No, _really_," he said, leaping onto my head and leaning sideways. "How _are_ you? What are you doing with yourself? Pops is stinking mad that you haven't visited. Aren't you a dad yourself now? How is it? Is it a girl or a boy toad? Does your kid have a long tongue? Will you bring it around to our place? Can I play with it?"

"She's called Chie," I said. "And no, she hasn't got a long tongue. But I can arrange for you two to play very soon, I promise." I took Gamageko off my head and placed him in front of me. "Now listen, buddy. I need your help. Think you can run a quick errand for me? I'll do my best to get some snacks to Myōboku for you in return. Deal?"

He squirmed. "What's the errand like? I'm not supposed to help in war thingies. Pops would flip his hat, say nothing of gramps." He gave a perceptible shudder. "They'd whack me to a pulp with their tongues. It's horrible, I tell you. Last week I went out with Gamasaku—she's a real catch if you know what I mean, fastest tongue in all of Myōboku!—anyway, I came back late, even though pops had prepared dinner. You wouldn't believe the speech he gave me. And right in front of Gamasaku, too. It was _so_ embarrassing!"

"Don't worry, it's just a run to Konoha and back. You won't be involved in any fighting at all, I promise. And if Gamakichi gets mad, send him my way. I'll deal with it."

Gamageko palmed his chin in an exaggerated thinking pose. His thought process stood written plain on his face, though. Excitement and sweets won out big time.

"Alright, deal" he said, holding out his webbed hand. "But I want those sweets. Don't you forget them."

"I'd never," I said, shaking on it.

"So what do you want from me?"

"I need you to find Nara Shikaku and give this to him." I handed him a scrap of paper I'd written while Shikamaru had slept. "Wait for him to give you something in return, and then get back to us."

Gamageko pocketed the scrap. "Sounds easy enough. I'll be on my way then. Sit tight, this won't take long at all!"

Once Gamageko was gone, Shikamaru said, "You're tricking him."

"Nothing I said was a lie."

"It wasn't the truth either. He might not be involved in any fighting, but this delivery sure involves him in the war."

"He's bringing us a map," I said. "That's all."

"A map that shows every cave we have used as a supply point for the resistance. I have no doubt it will fall into Iwa's possession at some point." Shikamaru quieted, then said, "Is this really alright with you?"

"It's my idea," I said.

"We're about to betray a sister-nation, and you are lying to your summons. I will follow your orders, Naruto, but before I do, I want to know if this is truly how you want to go about this."

"A few months ago you told me to act more like every other commander."

"That was different," he said. "If we do this, we can't back out. No matter what happens, we'll have to pull through. Will you be able to sleep after this?"

His question clearly marked the border for me, maybe also for himself. Only a step now, and I would walk the same path as Danzō, Rōshi, and Fū. Perhaps the same path that every leader had to walk eventually.

"When have I actually slept these past weeks, Shikamaru? I'm tired of losing people because I cling to principles that have no place in a war."

I said no more, and Shikamaru understood.

An hour later, Gamageko brought back the map, renewing our promise for candy and asking me to visit him soon, so that we could go swimming in the vast and serene pools of Mount Myōboku.

* * *

End of Chapter


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: **Everything belongs to Masashi Kishimoto.

* * *

**Rokudaime**

Chapter 8

* * *

We had to bury Subaru because we couldn't risk making a fire and giving him a proper ceremony. As Shikamaru's technique dragged Subaru's body into the earth, I took a last look at him. The talisman around his neck and the bones woven into his hair gave him a far more primal look than his delicate features would suggest. Then dirt claimed his face and the rest of his body, and I marked the location of his grave in my mind. Once Waterfall belonged to us, I would excavate his body and bring it to Konoha. I owed it to Subaru. That, and much more.

The operation itself began that same night. Shikamaru had calculated where Iwa-nin were sure to turn up based on his knowledge of population centers, proximity to the border, and Fū's recent activities. He had created so many patrol schedules in his life that this proved as easy to him as tying a shoe. The first ambush would be close by, though we had no way to tell when the patrol would pass us.

We lay in wait beneath the treetops, tense and awake. Dawn was breaking when they came, leaping in a four-man formation across the branches above. Through the foliage, their alert faces became visible. Except for the patrol, the perimeter was empty. A confirmed kill. No one would see our techniques but them, and they were not long for the world.

I gave the signal.

The burst of chakra from Shikamaru alerted them to the danger, but by then black fists had reached out from the branches, holding their ankles in a vice grip. One Iwa-nin stabbed at them; the others blasted chakra to free themselves. None noticed me coming up behind them.

A second later, their throats slit, they stumbled off the tree. Secured by long shadows they hung from the branch, hitting one another like wind chimes.

The sight reminded me of the time Chōji had showed me his family's slaughter house, where slabs of meat had been hanging suspended from the rafters, waiting to be cut down. I stifled the protest in my body. I had killed before, often enough, but usually I came at my enemies from the front—even during an ambush—which at least gave them a fighting chance.

Once Shikamaru disengaged his technique, the bodies fell to the floor with loud thumps, throwing up piles of colored leaves. We checked the corpses. His shadow had left circular marks on their ankles.

"This might give us away," he said. "I'll have to change it up in the future."

"I'll take care of it. Go back to the cave. I'll be with you in a minute."

He looked queasy, but followed my order.

Once he had left, I hardened myself and used wind, blade, and what little I knew of fire and water to prepare the area and the corpses. It was a butcher's task, but I would be damned before I gave Shikamaru a duty like this.

"Did you?" he said after my horrific work was done and I joined him in the cave.

"I made it look like a fight," I returned, sliding down against the wall, my stomach roiling at the sight of my arms red to the elbow.

After a while he said, "We shouldn't leave any survivors for the first few patrols. The stories have to grow through their absence."

I struggled to my feet. We still had work to do. Another place for an ambush lay only twenty miles away, near a city.

Time went by in a gruesome monotone. By day we hid out in the caves and the woods. By night we laid waste to one more group, leaving none alive. Had my mind rebelled against this kind of work at first, it soon became dull to it. After the fifth patrol, I took off my pendant and stowed it away. No part of my family should be close enough to witness this.

What I saw and heard and smelled in that time had no color, no sound, no scent. It was a gray mass of experience that I was wading through between dusk and dawn, with little to no refuge in the sun-lit woods. At first Shikamaru and I had talked a lot, discussing how to go about this and that, and planning out our fights. But these assassinations were of a scale we had never experienced before outside of pitched battles. We learned, became methodical, then silent. Talking would have meant to be awake, which neither of us could afford. Asleep, if you wished to call it that, we had a chance of making it out of this. Asleep, there was only the gray, and nothing else. I had found this state of mind by accident, or rather it had found me, and now I clutched at it, tried entering it as often as I could. In Waterfall, not to feel was perhaps the only comfort I could find.

The second week passed by, more terrible than the first. When color threatened to overtake my mind, I recited the mission in my head, endlessly repeating the plan for the next assassination in my thoughts or thinking about Subaru's sacrifice. It happened while I hunted for food, while we switched to new caves, while I put the blade to someone. The mantra provided a point of focus that made sure my mind wouldn't wander away from the indistinct gray.

During the third week, Iwa responded by increasing the number of patrols and sending six shinobi per team instead of four. Fū would be feeling Iwa's presence now. I took no satisfaction from that thought, though. I had shed my anger after the fourth patrol on the second day, when it dawned on me that I couldn't afford emotions during this work, when I had vaguely understood what this work actually meant in practice.

I came to hate the real sleep, though, if I found it at all. I had no control over my mind during that time. Some nights I would see Hinata and Chie, and I would wake up barely holding back tears. Others I would be chased across an arid, red desert by men and women with unknown, shadowed faces. When they got to me and tore me down and apart, I would awake with a start, my mouth open in a silent scream. No matter which dream, my heart would always race and only calm down after I had recited the mission in my mind and went to work. Some days that was harder than others.

At the end of the fourth week, we engaged a patrol of eight Iwa-nin, the largest, most experienced group so far. It turned out easier than expected. Iruka had once taught us that repetition and invention were the parents of skill. His lecturing, well-meant voice sounded like the baritone of a faraway horn. It had taken us four weeks to truly invent our way to becoming murder machines, and we repeated our inventions every day, honing and expanding on them, throat after throat.

As the sixth member of the patrol slid away from me, I wiped my kunai at the sleeve of his shirt in a quick move before he slumped down. My hair was red, my eyes purple, and my whiskers concealed with makeup. Behind me lay the first guy we would leave alive. He was unconscious. I had made sure to give him a good look at the Taki hitai-ate tied around my arm.

Shikamaru was still fighting the last one. The Iwa-nin had no idea what was happening to him. He knew neither where the pain came from, nor why his leg suddenly buckled. The instant he cried out, Shikamaru swiped at him—a clean strike, the least amount of movement wasted.

Instead of strangling people, Shikamaru had found it more effective to shape his shadow into knives and stab them through the bottom of their foot. When the enemy looked to see what happened, the knife was gone, leaving nothing but a wound.

Then Shikamaru got better. He stopped spearing the whole foot. Half was enough to surprise the enemy. If he was cruel-minded, though, he could ram his shadow up a man's heel, driving it right up to the kneecap without anyone being the wiser. Eventually, the knife lost its shape, however. Keeping it pretty was too much work for too little benefit. A crude spike was sufficient. Hand seals? He had never used any after the second week.

The Nara toolkit was made for assassination. In a man like Shikamaru it found its full potential. He was the shadow under your bed, the silent death that hunted you in your dreams. In some ways I was afraid of him. We hadn't talked for weeks now, weeks in which he had also stopped smoking. Had he stopped because smoking was normalcy, and normalcy something to return to instead of bringing it here?

I had no answers. Searching for them would have meant thinking too deeply, would have me tread too closely to waking up.

And then, as if nothing had ever happened, everything stopped after the fifth and final week. As had been our aim, Waterfall was crawling with Iwa-nin by now. The night before, we had placed the map with them. It would take at least a day for them to verify that it was real and helpful.

Presently, we stood on a bluff overlooking Waterfall's northern plains. The grass was still wet from the rain of the previous night. The sun made the meadows and hills gleam like polished blades. Fall had come, turning the world gold and red.

Shikamaru and I were dressed as civilians. Until we got to the south and from there back to Grass, we were refugees. Shikamaru wore a torn, baggy cotton shirt. He had dyed his hair brown. As we descended the rocky path down the bluff, he said, "We'll have to start talking again."

His voice startled me. It was rough from disuse, just as mine would be.

"I . . . okay," I said, fumbling for words. "How are you?"

"That's not a good question to ask."

"I know."

We fell silent again and kept walking, two woodcutters fleeing from the devastation up north, seeking a better life.

* * *

We had planned our hits on Iwa's patrols in a way that would make them focus the north first, coming down on it the hardest. People believed our refugee story easily enough, and we were halfway through Waterfall already. Outside of my Genin days I had never had a mission go as smoothly as this.

Every day we walked miles and miles, and talked with people passing by. They had family in the North. They were traders from the North. They had grown up there, and wasn't it the most perfect place to find peace and calm and serenity? The North? The North? _The North_? Their open and distraught faces gnawed at me. I gave one word answers. Two, if I felt charitable. Shikamaru explained that I was still in shock over our hut burning down. Then we went on before they could ask more detailed questions.

I had nothing to do but walk. I tried to force myself back into that gray, dull state but it wouldn't work. There was no killing to be done, no mantra to focus my thoughts.

Color was everywhere around me: a light blush of exertion on an otherwise pale face; the red and orange fire within the crown of every tree around; the deep, endless blue of the sky whether day or night. Soon the world had smell again, kept rubbing my nose into the earthen scent of the woods. From then on it was only a matter of time before it found taste as well and made me remember the taste of berries and nuts, and that of the roasted bread we now and then shared with other travelers. All these sensations, all these things that made being alive a worthy thing, were pushed onto me regardless if I wanted them or not. It was too bright, too vivid, too loud. And soon it reached my mind, brought life into my thoughts and memories, made me feel as close to them as I had ever been. If only they had been happy memories. If only I could have smelled the meadows forever.

But what I saw now in startling color, in cruel detail, was my family, and then myself become a butcher. Dozens of faceless Iwa-nin visited me daily. I had treated them like cattle to be slaughtered. They would have done the same to me, but I still thought of them.

How did Shikamaru do it? He could talk to people. The bastard even managed to smile. My attempts looked crippled and lame in comparison.

One day I worked up the courage to ask him. I had gotten used to his voice, but I would never forget the ruthlessness unearthed in him.

"I keep home in mind," he said, lighting a cigarette.

"Konoha?"

"You're thinking too broad."

We were crossing a stream and he jumped from boulder to boulder, fake-balancing like a civilian would on the off chance someone was watching us from far away. "Who do you miss most?" he asked from the other side.

"That's a dumb question," I said, following him.

"Humor me."

"My family. Hinata. Chie." I thought a second longer, then added, "I'd love to have a drink with Kiba and Sakura. Or with Grandma Tsunade and the old pervert."

"Jiraiya-sama?"

"Who else? I can't even begin to count how often Sakura has told me he's a menace to all womanhood."

Shikamaru shook his head. "What's she doing with herself anyway? Has she found herself a guy? I never saw her when we were on leave."

"Last I heard she got it on with a Chūnin she had taught in a medic-nin course," I said. We were climbing a rotten tree that led to a ledge from where we should find back onto a road. "I don't envy the man."

Shikamaru hummed in understanding. "Sasuke is a tough act to follow."

"He is," I said solemnly, keeping a lid on an old pain that was best left forgotten.

When Sakura and Sasuke had gotten married, Sasuke had already been a captain of ANBU. His acts in the mission that took his life had been heroic. His unit was classified, but they changed some details and still wrote it down in the history books. One day Chie would learn about Sasuke in her classes. She should. The previously collapsing front to Kumo had stabilized for half a year afterwards by the impact of his sacrifice.

He had also left Sakura a childless widow who now had one hell of a difficult time getting her life back on track. I had spent a lot of my leave time with her, trying to ease that pain. Any man having to fill Sasuke's shoes had an impossible task ahead of him.

"So what are you going to do with your family when you get back to Konoha?" Shikamaru asked, crouching on top of a ledge framed by sunlight.

"Family outing at Ichiraku's."

His approach had the subtlety of Jiraiya in a public bath, but my lips twitched at the thought of visiting old man Teuchi and Ayame with my family.

I had to get Chie addicted to ramen before Hinata turned her to healthy food. Undoubtedly, Hinata would argue me into a corner with sensible points. Out of options, I'd have no choice but to pick her up, throw her onto the bed, and have my way with her. Afterwards, when Hinata was asleep, I'd ditch out through the backdoor with Chie and introduce her to the wonder of late night noodles.

"That's one hell of a face you're making," Shikamaru said with a satisfied tone. He had earned it. "What are you thinking about?"

"Noodles and sex," I said.

He laughed, and we fell into silence—an easy one this time—as we cut our way through the brush, towards the road.

"What about you?" I asked later, watching leaves tumble through the air while Shikamaru took a leak against a tree. "What will you do when you get back?"

Although his face looked serene, I had found a flicker in his eyes that I could only explain in light of the past month. If he was in the same pain as me, though, I now had a way to help him.

He had pulled me up; it was time to return the favor.

"Feeding the deer," he said, finishing up. "Playing shōgi with my father. That kind of thing."

Once we were on the move again, the shape of his mouth and the fine lines around his eyes told me that he planned to be silent now.

"Come on," I said. "That isn't even close to everything. What about Ino?"

"What about her?"

"You're a stubborn bastard, you know that?"

Echoing him got me a raised brow. "You're one to talk. I haven't met a more mulish person yet."

"I'll let that slide for now," I said. We had finally made it onto the road. It was dry and dusty and led straight south. "I still want to know more about you and Ino, though."

He ignored me, while I kept using the good cheer he had given me earlier to turn it onto him. He didn't want it. He looked at everything but me.

"Well?" I asked when a cart had passed us.

"Well what?"

"What about Ino?"

Shikamaru made an annoyed clicking sound with his tongue. I was getting close. "There's nothing to talk about."

"I don't believe you," I said. A moment later I added, "So, once you get back and meet up with her . . ." letting the words hang in the air like a promise.

"Dammit, Naruto, do you want to know which positions—" Shikamaru stopped himself and closed his eyes.

He had imagined it, though, was imagining it right now, no matter how much he argued against it.

"You're a fucking menace," Shikamaru said, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

I took that as a compliment and planned out my next question to wheedle more out of him. It kept me busy. It kept other, darker thoughts away.

* * *

Night was a sad reality check. Shikamaru had made me talk. He had made me remember the good things in my life. He hadn't taken away the bad things, though. When I stared into the campfire, I found everything: the good, the bad, the monstrous.

My body still shook at random times. Thoughts of death and murder chased glimpses of my family, like jailors trying to corral inmates during a prison riot. I was human again. Maybe too human. I would have to live with these memories all my life now. I couldn't run from them anymore. Had Fū ever woken up?

A day later we met a boy on the road. He was twelve, maybe thirteen. He had a wiry frame, muscular and tan from hard work outside. He was carrying a big pack of twigs, and we walked the road side by side for a while. His pale blue eyes betrayed his curiosity, even as he kept his distance.

He was less wary, though, than I first thought.

"From up north, huh?" he said once we got to talking. "We've heard there's trouble up there. I guess it'll arrive here soon enough. It always does."

"You don't seem too worried," I said.

"Stuff like this has been happening for as long as I can remember," he said. "There's nothing to it but toughing it out. We got through the other times. We'll get through this one, too."

The kid had more adult bearing in him than many guys I knew. It was a sad thing to see. If he was twelve, then he'd been born a year or so before the war began.

I kept talking to him. He was surprisingly open, given the state Waterfall was in. His parents tended to an orchard an hour south of here that lay far enough off the road to never see many visitors at all. He'd seen a shinobi once in his life, and that only briefly at an inn.

I said, "What were you doing this far north, then?"

He lifted his shoulders to indicate the twigs. "I'm always running errands for my parents. It's what I do."

I gave a quick laugh. "Not buying it. You could do that closer to your orchard, surely. What were you really doing?"

Most adults would have clammed up and told me to go screw myself. He was still a kid, though. A fine red dusted his cheeks.

"There's a village near where I met you," he mumbled.

"And?"

"And there's, well, there's a girl there." He was looking straight at the road.

I grinned over his head at Shikamaru, who was ready to get in on the action. Now that it wasn't about his own love life, he had become remarkably less tense.

"No need to be shy," Shikamaru said. "She must be a cute one, for your to walk all the way to her village."

I leaned in closer for an audible whisper. "For some girls it's worth it, eh? This guy"—I gestured at Shikamaru—"he once knew a woman in another country even, and visited her. How's that for going after your dreams? For months I had to do all the work on my own until he came back to our hut."

"Where did she live?" the kid asked while Shikamaru was mean-mugging me over the bale of twigs.

"Ever heard of Suna?" I asked.

His eyes widened. "That's far!"

By the time the road forked, the sun was halfway down and Shikamaru's exploits in Suna had grown to epic proportions. Not one, not two, but three women had been vying for his attention. He'd given all of them a fair shot, and then settled for a girl closer to home. The kid was fascinated. He'd have one hell of a story to tell his friends once we were gone.

When we were about to say goodbye to him, he scrunched up his face. He was looking us over, as if to convince himself of something. Then he shrugged. "You want to come over and meet my parents? It isn't far. I'm sure they'd like to hear about what's going on up north. They always do. I can't promise they'll let you sleep here, but there's sure to be some food for you. My mom's a great cook."

I exchanged a glance with Shikamaru. Was it a trap? The kid seemed honest enough, but far too trusting for living in a country at war. Then again, that had been my impression of Waterfall's lowlands in general. In contrast, the people up north were cagey bastards, whose mistrust grew stronger the closer you got to the ruins of Taki.

I shrugged. "Sure, kid. Let's go."

Tomorrow we'd amp up our speed and make it across the border back to Grass. Why not eat the last night in style? A darker part of me thought that there existed little anyway that could threaten Shikamaru and me after last month.

A little-trodden road led us first alongside, then through, a small wood. We followed a path snaking parallel to a stream and at the other end found the orchard, where rows upon rows of apple and pear trees lined up like soldiers. The stream ran in front of and around them like a commander addressing her troops, and at every strong gust of wind the boughs bent sideways, saluting orders. Wooden shacks stood scattered throughout the place. Toolsheds, the kid told us as we climbed over the fence and took a shortcut through the ranks of trees. On a knoll overlooking the orchard stood a traditional house. It was a good position, but far away from the trees. The house felt distant to the orchard, like it belonged somewhere else.

The setting sun warmed our backs as we hiked up the knoll. Cicadas and frogs were having the time of their lives. The kid told us how he got up early each morning to help his parents tend to the trees.

The gate stood open, and the pebble path up to the door led past a field to the right, where a carved bird statue stood guard over growing herbs. A cloak had been thrown over one wing. Dirty boots, gloves, and other garden appliances lay on the ground.

A woman's voice sounded through the thin paper doors farther on, humming an upbeat melody. The whole place seemed so dreamlike and peaceful, I started to doubt that I was actually awake. Shikamaru tried to hide it, but his eyes held the same fascination.

"I'm back," the kid called inside, putting down his bale of twigs. "I've met some people on the road. Can they eat with us? They're from up north."

The humming stopped. "I'll be with you in a second," the mother replied, her voice far more cautious than her son's.

A moment later, footfall came from the hallway. The woman's face froze on the spot when she saw us. Good shinobi knew how to recognize one another. Our bearing gave us away. The moment our eyes crossed we were instinctively going through the same steps. We checked for weapons, strengths, weaknesses—anything that could be gleaned from a quick look over. I hadn't expected a shinobi in this orchard. Neither had she.

Her face was tense and dangerous, while Shikamaru wore an indecipherable expression. They were both ready to escalate at a moment's notice, and I had no doubt who'd win that fight.

I didn't come here to create an orphan, though. "This is not the way I thought it would go, kid. Why don't you go over to your mother, I think that'd put her at ease." Looking at the kunoichi, I said, "No need for a fight. Let's stick to talking first," while putting a hand on Shikamaru's shoulder.

"Come behind me," the mother said to her son, her voice pure iron as she pushed the kid behind her with a strength that made the boy's eyes widen.

I was expecting the father to come into the house at any second. With our luck, he'd be a shinobi, too.

"Your village?" the mother asked.

"I don't think you'd believe anything I say anyway." This introduction really had gone over like a spilled bowl of ramen. "We're from Konoha."

Her eyes were tiny, suspicious slits. "That's some distance away."

I shrugged. "We're here on business. I had a talk with Fū."

She twitched at the name. It was more of a reaction than I had expected. Was she rusty? The way the kid had talked about his family, they'd been tending to this orchard for close to a decade now. Had she gone underground to raise him? Left the resistance?

"We're not answering to Fū in any way," Shikamaru said, having come to the same conclusion. "Your secret is safe with us."

"Who's Fū?" the kid asked his mother. "What's going on here? Do you know them?" While standing behind her, he had found himself a knife. He held it non threateningly, but the promise was there: hurt my mother and I'll gut you like a fish.

She shushed him, never taking her eyes off us. "How do I know you say the truth?"

I rolled my eyes. "It's always the same question, isn't it? You know there are no guarantees in our profession."

She watched us a moment longer, then relaxed as another presence came up behind us.

The sight knocked the air clean out of me. The father had platinum blond hair cut off at the shoulders. His nose was delicate in comparison to his broad chin. His eyes . . . I knew that shade of pale blue. The kid had it, too. But with the kid's dark hair I hadn't even come close to making the connection.

"What in the world . . ." Shikamaru said. "You can't be serious."

Shikamaru's appearance tipped off the man, too. He showed a moment of surprise, then his eyes became still pools of nothing.

I cleared my throat. "I'm going to repeat what I said to your lovely wife. We're not here to fight. Your secret is safe with us."

"One hell of a secret," Shikamaru said under his breath.

"Ignore him," I said. "He's still in shock. It'll wear off. Now, as I said, we'll keep this among us. But I damn well won't leave this place without the full picture. How did a Yamanaka end up in an orchard in Waterfall?"

"Yamanaka?" the kid asked. His mother was glaring daggers at me.

The father said, "Do you give me your word that you won't drag me off to Konoha?"

"If the explanation is reasonable, I do."

"Why should his word mean anything?" the mother asked.

I reached the father my hand. We shook, gripping forearms. "Uzumaki Naruto," I said. "Commander of Konoha's forces in Grass. This is Nara Shikamaru."

"Uzumaki, huh? You've come up in the world, lad. Last I heard your name you and the Uchiha had just been given over to Kakashi." He shook his head as if to rid himself of old memories. "Yamanaka Shuichi. Former Jōnin of Konoha." He sighed. "Let me tell you the rest over some food and drink. You'll likely have figured out most of it by now"—he shot Shikamaru a knowing look—"but maybe if I fill in the details you won't think too badly of me."

From the way the mother was still looking at us, I had a feeling it would be a somber dinner.

* * *

Shuichi's story was about what I had expected. At the start of the war, Konoha had run some joint missions with Taki. In one of them Shuichi met the kid's mother, then a Chūnin, and they hit it off. They would invent all sorts of excuses to get away from their platoons and have time for themselves. Hundreds of caves and hidden waterfalls gave them an easy access to privacy, and months later, the girl was pregnant. In the meanwhile, the war grew worse. Bits and pieces of Waterfall broke off and fell to Iwa.

Shuichi, though barely in his twenties, was a Jōnin of some standing. He knew enough about Konoha's politics to know that soon the order for a retreat would be coming in. The Hero's Tree was poisoned already. One or two more battles to show goodwill, and then all the help Taki would get would come in form of weapons and supplies. They'd leave the country to its own, and with that the mother of his unborn child.

He made a run for it. They waited for one of the last battles, and in the ensuing chaos took to the woods, leaving the shinobi world behind. For months they stayed in the forests, keeping away from caves and camps and cities. When Iwa occupied Waterfall at last, driving the remains of Taki's shinobi force underground, Shuichi and his wife emerged and built the orchard.

They chose a secluded spot, some distance to the next village, and far away from any cave or border. Every night in the first few months, Shuichi would go out to the surrounding villages and use what tricks of mind were available to him to make it seem as if the orchard, and his family, had always been there. Slowly they came to be civilians.

"I don't understand how you kept yourself safe," I said, savoring the incredible roast, the best thing I had eaten in months. "I get that Iwa might not know your faces, but the resistance should. Fū should have found you a long time ago. Waterfall isn't that big."

"He should go to bed," the mother cut in, half-pulling the kid to his feet. "This is no talk for him."

Shuichi shook his head. "Let him stay. He is old enough now. This is his reality, too, whether we like it or not." Once things had settled, Shuichi poured more sake, even a cup for his son, and said, "Fū and I have come to an agreement. She won't bother us."

Even Shikamaru, who had been brooding the whole time, barely touching his plate, looked up from his cup. "An agreement? Hard to believe."

"I had the pleasure of dealing with her," I said. "She's not the type for agreements."

"She had little choice in the matter. It's a secret known to some in Konoha's hierarchy, but almost no one in her own ranks. The ones that knew have already been killed by the war."

"Enough!" the mother said. "I don't care how old he is, this is no topic for our son, Shuichi." Resolute, she rose to her feet, dragging her son away from the table and up the stairs. The kid was overwhelmed enough that he didn't even protest all that much.

"I guess she's right," I said.

Shuichi hummed in a non-committal manner.

"The secret?" Shikamaru asked.

Shuichi regarded both of us with a searching look, then leaned back and said, "Fū started this war. It happened inadvertently, an innocent accident on her part you might say. As I learned of it, she was always a very trusting soul, and quite misunderstood by the rest of the village—not unlike you, I suspect. My wife told me that she craved companionship, precisely because barely anyone bothered talking to her. To be honest, it doesn't surprise me that she latched onto anyone who gave her the time of day. It just so happened that one day that someone was a spy from another village. It's hard to tell which. Might have been Kumo, might have been Iwa. Even Kiri is a possibility. I suppose it doesn't matter who did it. The result is evident. Fū opened up, and a few months later, the secret of the Hero Water became known to the world."

Shuichi turned the sake cup in his hands, lost to memory. "Only the leaders of Taki and some in Konoha knew of her involvement, and they worked hard to keep it under wraps. Perhaps out of guilt because they drove her into the spy's arms, or because they knew war was imminent and had need of her strength. They certainly couldn't afford even more distrust between her and the general shinobi force."

The last time I had looked at someone this speechless, Jiji had just told me about my ancestry.

"And Fū lets you live?" I asked incredulously.

Shuichi's smile was suffused with iron. "It's a thorn in her side, no doubt, but I have safeguards in place should she attempt to harm me or my family. She knows that, so she won't move, not even to tell Konoha I still exist."

Later that night, after Shuichi had shown us to a shed with straw, I tossed and turned, dozed for a few minutes only to wake up from a nightmarish scenario. Two hours in, I gave up. The pictures in my head were mixing and tumbling, and I hated to see memories of Hinata, Chie, and my friends blend into the war. Besides, I couldn't get Fū out of my mind. Was that why she had turned into this caricature of herself? Driven only by guilt and the desire to never again be taken advantage of in such a way?

Shikamaru's sleep was no less bothered than mine, but he didn't wake. From the way he was squirming I wondered if I was the lucky one.

I took a walk outside and went down to the orchard, wandering under the moonlit boughs of the apple trees to clear my head. I picked an apple from one and bit into it. From the pond came the sound of skipping stones. The kid stood at the edge of the water, lost in thought, his thumb and index finger rubbing the smooth surface of a flat stone. A lantern stood on a boulder next to him.

"Hey there," I said, picking up some pebbles.

Skipping stones made me remember the old man. I didn't get throwing shuriken at first, no matter how well Iruka explained the turn of his wrist. Then the old man had come and said that it was like skipping stones, and things clicked. Once Chie got to be that age, I'd teach her the same way.

"I never knew they were shinobi," the kid said after a while. "I thought they were different than other parents, but that's it. They'd get mad over the dumbest things. Staying out late in the village and stuff like that." He inspected his stone in the light of the lantern. "The war's not so bad here, so I thought they're just worried the older guys would give me sake." He sent the stone flying. "Instead they were afraid that some shinobi would recognize me and slit my throat like it's nothing . . . like they did, I guess."

I said, "I wouldn't discount the sake theory. I can guarantee you that played some role in their decisions."

He looked up sharply. "How would you know?"

"I've got a daughter. I'd kick in any guy's skull who gave her something to drink before she's well and ready for it. I think any decent parent has that idea in their head at some point. It's what you do for people that mean the world to you."

A shy expression flickered over his face. "Maybe less violently."

"Maybe," I allowed. "Would you have liked to grow up as a shinobi?"

He shrugged. "I've no idea what being a shinobi means. Well, besides the things you hear now and then."

I nodded and we continued skipping stones. I had a question on my mind that would sound strange no matter how I asked. I kept bouncing it around, looking for a good way to phrase it, and failed. I wasn't a delicate speaker. Hinata would have found a better way.

"Out of curiosity . . . are you proud of your parents?"

"How do you mean?"

"They're missing-nin. They left friends, family, and country behind in a shit situation. They fled from a war that could've used every person, where they might've made a difference."

His brow lowered. "That's a dumb thing to ask."

"You don't have to answer," I said. "Your parents put me in a difficult position, but I stand by my word. I won't give them up to the Brass." Rubbing the back of my neck, I looked out over the pond. "I'm sorry. You're right. It's a dumb question. We dropped a big thing on you today, and here I am, making it worse—"

"Of course I'm proud of them," he said, looking at me as if I were stupid. "They're nagging as hell and it's weird they were shinobi, but what's that matter? I've heard the stories, you know? The legends and stuff, with fireballs and lightning and everything. But that's just stories. I'd rather have them here. Who wouldn't?"

The kid huffed, sent another stone skipping, then stalked away with the lantern, up the knoll and back to the house. I sat down on the boulder and kept staring at the pond, dumbfounded at the certainty of his words. _Who wouldn't?_ There was a lesson in those words, I thought, and perhaps it needed the view of a child, that innocent surety, to teach it right.

Later, back inside the house, I found Shuichi still awake at the table, the sake jug empty now. Rest seemed a hard thing to come by for him as well. I asked him for paper and brush, and he gave it without comment. Whether because he was too lost in thought, or because I had introduced myself as a commander, I couldn't say. When I was done writing, I put back the supplies, and fell asleep.

Next morning Shikamaru and I stood at the edge of the orchard, where Shuichi was seeing us off. We had said goodbye to the kid and his mother at the house.

"Good luck," Shuichi said.

"You need it just the same," I said. "Going to Konoha isn't an option, but I'd rather you move someplace else. This country is about to be jammed solid with Iwa-nin. The highlands are already experiencing it. It won't be too long until it reaches the lowlands as well. It's not safe here."

"It isn't safe anywhere right now," he said. "I'm not going to leave my orchard behind because of a few riled up Iwa-nin. This is my life now, and I'll be damned if I give it up that easily." He smiled. "We'll be careful, I promise. We're good at evading others. Now that we know something's coming, we'll take the right measures."

I said, "I really hope you're right." I searched my pockets, my hand soon emerging with a scroll. "Here. Hide it somewhere safe and tell your son where it is, should he have to use it."

Shuichi frowned. "What's that?"

"It'll get him into Konoha under a false name. It's got my thumbprint, blood, and chakra. They won't turn him away. I know you think you won't need it, but take it anyway, just in case. It'd make me feel better, if nothing else."

Maybe it would even alleviate some of the stress on my conscience, because what I'd been doing here in Waterfall had screwed it up well and proper.

Shuichi took the scroll. "Thank you. I hope it'll never come to that, but I appreciate it."

I nodded and turned to go. Shikamaru murmured something and followed me. Half an hour down the road his shoulders relaxed. Another hour later, he lost the frown that had stayed fixed from the moment he'd seen Shuichi yesterday. Once we stopped at a stream miles farther south, the make-up came off. The civilian clothes were burnt in a pile. We became ourselves again.

"Knew him from Konoha?" I asked as we were taking to the west, now moving back towards Grass.

"Of him," Shikamaru said curtly. "He was Ino's favorite uncle. She was devastated when the news came that he died."

"Oh." I had no idea what else to say to that.

The morning was bright and filled with the song of larks as we jumped back into the safety of the trees. Today, their noise bothered me. How come nature never cared how much at odds it was with the rest of the world? It was always the goddamn same. Regardless of what happened, clouds drifted around and did their thing. Animals plodded on. Waves came and went. Round and round like a spinning top went sun and moon, while we sat on the edge holding on for dear life, wondering when our fingers would slip and we'd fall off, breaking our necks.

* * *

End of Chapter


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: **Everything belongs to Masashi Kishimoto.

* * *

**Rokudaime**

Chapter 9

* * *

Six weeks after Shikamaru and I had set out to Waterfall, we returned to our camp and soldiers, whether victorious or in defeat was hard to tell. The Fall rain was hammering us into the ground, the hoods of our cloaks bending under the downpour that was beating Grass into submission.

Shinobi stood at attention when we plodded past them through the mud, their spines rigid as a row of spears. They were waiting out the rain in the safety of their awnings, their money switching hands when they thought we had our backs to them.

Albeit in bad taste, a death pool wasn't unusual among the forces—a thing only illegal if you got caught doing it—so we let it go at first. At least until one shinobi didn't wait before we were out of sight and handed his bet to the kunoichi next to him. Shikamaru stopped in the middle of the way, his gaze swiveling along the row of shinobi and down to the Chūnin in question, whom he beckoned forward into the rain. The woman who had received the money, still standing under the awning and death-gripping her won ryo, turned chalky at the sudden scrutiny so close to her. Belatedly, as Shikamaru's stare slid from her neighbor to herself, she too stepped into the rain, where the deluge stuck her hair to her brow and drenched her clothes within seconds.

A twitch of Shikamaru's nose was all it would take to send them running. In their averted eyes, their anxious posture, was the knowledge that something had changed in him. They had no way to tell what kind of change, but its presence, its sheer existence, made itself felt nevertheless.

I knew the change, though, could read what flashed in Shikamaru's glare: a time in Waterfall we'd rather forget, and yet memories of which cropped up like weeds on a walkway when you least expected them. Putting a hand on his shoulder I addressed the Chūnin by name and said to them, "You ought to pay better attention when paying out bets, eh? Another commander might write you up for that stuff. And anyway, misjudging a situation is a good way to get yourself killed on a mission, so be careful next time."

Shikamaru and I walked on. And while the Chūnin relaxed, losing tension like two overwrought strings going slack, I fought down the memory of Subaru's torn up body and the countless faces haunting me day in, day out.

"You were in Waterfall," I said quietly as we crossed into Orochimaru's former hideout, navigating through the narrow halls underground. Lit sconces led the way, made our shadows big and monstrous, and had them flickering behind us as if to burst out of our backs if only we eased up and let them.

"I'm there every day," he said.

So was I. Shikamaru chased the memories away when they began to crowd my mind. Likewise, I broke him out of his spells the moment Death threw shade on him.

In the command hall, Shikamaru's cousin and Haru were studying a pair of maps. Upon noticing us they stood to attention. "Sir," Haru said, bowing to me, before nodding to Shikamaru. "It's good to have you back. Where is—"

"Gone," I said. My expression made clear that this would be the end of this line of questioning. I wasn't surprised to see him here. We might have handed command over to someone else, but that likely hadn't stopped him from butting in his head out of sheer loyalty.

"How have things been for you?" Shikamaru asked his cousin.

"Not too bad. There were quite a few questions at first, though. You three leaving surprised a lot of people."

"Was there talk of treason?" I asked.

"Never," Haru cut in. "Everyone I talked to was convinced that you wouldn't just abandon us, sir. They knew you had a plan. They just didn't know what kind."

Shikamaru's cousin rolled his eyes, stepping over to the map hanging at the wall. "He's right . . . essentially. And people did notice results soon enough. After two weeks, Iwa patrols lessened in the fringe areas, making life vastly easier for our recon teams. The trend continued in the following weeks, spreading to key areas as well. We've had little news from Waterfall, but whatever you were doing there to draw Iwa away worked wonders. Their forces have withdrawn to a few key points, leaving the outer edges of Grass to us."

"So they're turtling now," I said, counting the pins on the map which symbolized Iwa's strongholds. "Fewer areas to defend while increasing the amount of shinobi they have at any given place. It's a good strategy as long as they're dealing with the trouble in Waterfall."

"And at the middle of it all stands Kumi Castle . . ." Shikamaru said, his face dark and foreboding, no doubt because he remembered the losses of that day.

"We should mount an attack on that place as soon as we can," Haru said. "A hard and fast strike will surely secure us a victory now that you're here again and Iwa is being stretched thin. We'll show them, sir. For sure."

It shouldn't have happened, but Haru's fervor still caught me off-guard. He had a wife and two kids, his daughter already attending the Academy. Was he that eager to throw himself into battle?

"It might not be the best way, but we do have the option, sir," Shikamaru's cousin said. "It would be a hard battle, but not an impossible one with our current numbers."

"We've battered our head bloody against those walls before," I told them. "We're not running into another situation like that. At least not like things stand right now."

"Sir?" Both Haru and Shikamaru's cousin wore their surprise on their faces.

"Double our teams alongside the Grass-Waterfall border," I said to Shikamaru. "I want to know about everything that moves in and out in the coming weeks."

"You think she'll come?" Shikamaru asked.

"Four weeks. If she's not here by then, we'll take the place by ourselves. Until then, we're going to crack the remaining positions Iwa still occupies and drive them into the castle. I want to get all of them in one swipe."

"I'll get the patrol schedules ready, then," Shikamaru said, gesturing for his cousin and Haru to follow him.

Left alone in the command hall, I allowed myself a sigh, trying to get rid of all the doubt and nerves. In Waterfall I had started to play a game I had no experience in, and I'd played it as hard and as bloody as I could.

Would Fū come? In her shoes, I'd do whatever it took to wreck this place. But I wasn't Fū, and I hadn't inadvertently started a war that brought my country to its knees. Was the guilt over her past strong enough to accept my actions if it meant booting Iwa out of Waterfall for good? I had dealt her a nasty hand with almost no way forward. Would she pick it up and play with it, or burn the cards and throw cinders and ashes in my face?

There was no answer to any of these questions, so I stopped asking them and left the hall, firming my step and straightening my shoulders instead. The plan was made. In the next four weeks I'd move every piece into place to advance my and, by proxy, Konoha's agenda. Fū's aid would be welcome, but I'd be damned before I let myself become dependent on her goodwill.

Entering my tent I noticed that everything inside had been left as it was before I set out to Waterfall. My attempts at writing Hinata still littered the floor and the bed, while letters of condolences piled up on the table. I brushed my finger across the wooden box. Two orange hand prints waited inside for me. I didn't dare touch that letter as I was right now, though. The thought of it had to be enough.

I pulled up a sheet of paper and dipped a brush in ink. I had avoided this long enough now.

_ I'm sorry if you haven't heard anything of me, Hinata. I've started this letter a hundred times and never got very far. There was always something else. The war and . . . You know what, that's a lie, and you probably know it. I couldn't find the words and made excuses, that is all. I still don't know what to write, but I decided that you're getting this letter if it kills me. It'll be hard to read, and probably a mess. But you're you, so here's to hoping that you'll get me anyway._

_ So, where to start? I hate this rain. I don't like the food, and . . . _

The brush was trembling in my hand. I was trying to evade the issue again. Like always. But that was no good. I had found a start, now I had to continue with resolve. I forced the brush back onto the paper and crossed out the last line, beginning a new paragraph. There would be no more meaningless chatter.

_. . . I don't think I like myself much right now, Hinata. I'm not sure what's happening to me, and I'm . . ._—Again that trembling; again I had to still my hand, and then brute force brush onto paper—_I am afraid_._ There. I wrote it. I'm afraid. I'm afraid. I'm afraid. I don't know if I'll be the same when I get back to you. I don't even know if you'll like this new me. If it can be liked at all. I don't. It is a version of me born in a dark place, and I fear that I've got to keep it now because I need it to make sure we survive. And even afterwards I don't think I can just throw it away. Now that I have it, it'll stick to me like rust on a cheap knife, no matter what I do._

_It's all a mess, Hinata. I've done things I'd never thought I'd do. I've seen so many people die, have failed to save so many, and they still salute me like it's nothing. As if the world is still the same just because the sun keeps rising and the damn larks still sing in this bloody country. Subaru is dead, Hinata. I pulled Shikamaru into this horror, too. What kind of friend does that? I don't understand anything anymore. _

_Why are they still saluting?_

_ I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't have written all that stuff. I don't want to worry you, but I think I bungled that up too now. I really want to hold Chie and make her whoosh through the air like a kite. And I want to lie in bed with you on a sunny morning and talk about stuff, and then tickle and kiss you. _

_ I miss you two._

When I was done, I felt drained and had lost all sense of time. At some moments I'd even forgotten that I was writing. The words just came and wouldn't stop, and I'd been shaking like a leaf all the while.

And I learned again what I had suspected all along, that battles outside of my heart and mind were much easier to fight than those inside. That even in the dizzying cacophony of war there was a startling clarity which my inner turmoil lacked. For all the misery I sometimes felt when leading these men and women into battle, it was never the act itself that I found difficult but the aftermath instead. When, exhausted by blood and steel, my barriers were broken, leaving me to face my emotions head on, that was when the true battle began, and when I had to set myself straight. And that was where I faltered more often than not.

Not this time, though. This time I had made it to the end. The result was a paper with crossed out lines, specks of errant ink, and a lot of thoughts that had been bothering me. I had no orange, but I smeared my hand with black ink instead and put my handprint on the paper just as they had done, before rolling it into a scroll and tying it with twine.

Now, having written down my fear, preserving this part of my humanity, I had to empty my heart again and destroy fear altogether, because a commander, a leader, could not allow himself such an emotion. A hard lesson to learn. But one that waterfall taught me with brutal precision.

* * *

The next morning, in the early hours of yet another chilly day, a squad of twenty-one shinobi and kunoichi stood on the wet grass outside the encampment. The palisade behind us was glistening from the remnant rain. Errant raindrops beaded down the leaves, falling to the forest floor in a weak drizzle. When I joined the troops, Shikamaru, the odd man out, gave me a last overview. "They're all here. Ten water and two lightning affinities, two medic-nin, four Taijutsu and two Genjutsu specialists—twenty all in all."

I let slip a non-committal grunt, my eyes wandering over the group as my mind supplied their names.

"Lighting's hard to come by," Shikamaru went on, nodding at a young pair of Chūnin, a boy and a girl of seventeen, "so these two make up all of our lightning users. They're . . . not the most combat-proficient yet. I got them to show me their techniques though. Strength-wise they should do. It's just a matter of experience."

"Or lack thereof," I said, calling up what I knew about them from a memory at the coffee tent. Grass was their first warzone. Before becoming Chūnin and being sent here in a hurry they had been doing supply runs between Konoha and Tea Country—not the most difficult route, even during a war like this.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?"

A half-smile pulled at my lips. Sometimes Shikamaru was utterly predictable. "Not this time," I said. "I need you here to coordinate our efforts and filter the information we're getting from Waterfall. You know what we're looking for. If she makes a move, send me the fastest man you have and I'll be there."

"Guess I'll have to accept that," Shikamaru said with a shrug. Having twenty people accompany me seemed to ease his worry a lot, and besides, our stay in Waterfall had cured him of the need to cluck around me like a mother hen. As if that episode, that moment of our lives both of us wished to eradicate so completely, had forged a level of trust between us that even after all these years of serving together felt new and foreign. "I'll keep the fort then. Good luck."

"You too," I returned, gripping his forearm. Then he was gone, back inside the palisade, back to the maps and all the calculations that crowded his head and would drive lesser man mad within hours.

A last look at the gate, then I turned to address the troops: "Tonight we will crush Iwa's fortification near the city of Imae. Shikamaru has given you the detailed briefing already. Are there any questions left?"

Silence answered.

"Then we're moving out. Steady pace, keep about a mile behind me."

I leapt into the trees, rushing ahead. We would reach Imae with enough time left to scout out the area and devise a more detailed plan for our attack that night. While my shinobi held to their regular speed, I called up clones as I went, spreading them out in every direction.

A few hours into the journey, a clone a mile ahead popped itself when he spied a four-man scout team patrolling the area around Imae. I set off, slamming into the group like lightning into a tree. I gripped the first shinobi with both hands around his throat and pushed my thumbs deep into his trachea, which was, half a second later, punctured by two bloody holes as wind spiraled away from my thumbs. I let go of the corpse, ducked under a swing, and swept at the second man's legs, cutting off both below the knee as wind kept shearing through flesh and bone. The two other Iwa-nin soon followed their brethren, their throats slit by two clones who had come up behind them unnoticed. One of those I sent to inform the troops that they had to hide the remnants of a patrol.

By the time we reached the outskirts of Imae, two more patrols had found their end at my hands. Just like Shikamaru's cousin had said, the frequency of patrols had heightened as a result of Rōshi's decision to focus his troops on fewer areas. None of the three patrols had seen me coming, or had been given any chance to send word to the rest of Iwa's troops, but by now their absence would have been noticed. I'd be surprised if they weren't already considering an attack force coming for them.

The weak noon sun had given way to a late-afternoon sky replete with clouds and heavy winds as we came onto Iwa's fortification at last. "They've found themselves a cushy spot," I said from the vantage point of a tree. The encampment lay on an island squeezed into the middle of the Shibō River, one of the larger bodies of water in Grass. Not unlike our camp, theirs was ringed by a makeshift palisade.

"It won't be long until dark, sir," said Miko, the Chūnin with the red-sleeved shirt whom, an eternity ago that was in truth not even half a year, I had left in charge of cleaning up Orochimaru's lab and transforming it into a med bay. An alert gaze, an unflinching hand hovering close to her weapon pouch, an otherwise blank face: her early anxiety had been sloughed off by time and experience, as it happened to everyone eventually—at least to those who survived. Soon she'd be a candidate for Jōnin. I made a mental note to talk it over with Shikamaru. If she did well today and in the battles to come, a field promotion wasn't out of the question.

"Go and rest up with the others," I told her. "We attack in two hours, the moment darkness sets in."

As light fizzled out of the day, I went over the plan with my troops once more. "They still outnumber us two to one, so if they learn what's up we have to run before we get to accomplish anything. I for one didn't come all the way here to run away with my tail between my legs, though. I'm sure the same can be said for all of you . . . which means that we have to play this one smart and carefully."

"Yes, sir!"

I stopped in front of the two lightning specialists. I grinned at them, summoning some of that cheer they were lacking and desperately wanted right now. "This will be your first big mission. Are you excited?"

The hesitant reply and their faces told me they were anything but. I put my hands on their shoulders and leaned in closer. "Don't worry too much. It's alright to be nervous the first time round—eventually it'll go away. All you've got to do is not getting twitchy. Remember your roles. Wait on my order, then act. That's all. You'll see—tomorrow we'll be back at camp, celebrating victory."

"Yes, sir!" This time their reply was sharp. I nodded at them in satisfaction.

"It's time. Let's go!"

Even though I had told them the nerves vanished after a while, I had to admit to a few butterflies in my stomach as well. We were heavily outnumbered, and victory was entirely dependent on whether we managed to confuse Iwa into entering the cocky state of mind that was their damn natural habitat. I had no doubt that by now the men and women behind that palisade knew we were coming.

A minute later, I was given the signal that everyone was in place. The water-users had taken up position with me on the riverbank opposite of the encampment. Farther behind were our two medic-nin, protected by two close-combat specialists. Hidden by Genjutsu and shrubbery on either flank was each a group of three: a lightning user, a Taijutsu- and a Genjutsu-specialist.

A deep breath filled my lungs, then I said, "Now!" and ten shinobi linked their fingers in a dance of deadly symbols; and in an echo of that power, half a second later ten crocodile heads shaped from the water peeked out of the shallow parts of the river, opening their maws in unison: ten maws, ten bullets, and ten again, and ten once more, all flying, whistling, in high arcs across the river, about to vanish into the darkness of the night if not for the moon's distorted shimmer as they passed over the palisade. I had fought quite a few battles in my time, but there still was something awe-inspiring in the sight of a Ninjutsu platoon hurling their chakra at the enemy on your word alone.

The impact, and the resulting splash of water, came early. I didn't know what exactly Iwa had done to fend off the attack, but my money was on stone walls erupting from the earth, shielding them. An easy solution to the problem. For sure what I would've done in their stead, since earth beat water handily. For there to be an equilibrium in power, you'd need an S-ranked water technique to crack a B-ranked defensive formation made of Earth. That's just the way affinities worked, and these crocodile maws, impressive as they were, lining up like artillery, were nowhere near being S-ranked.

There was a moment of eerie silence in which I readied myself, my boots digging deep into the earth. "Don't stop shooting," I said. "Make them angry. No matter what happens, I'll make sure you're safe."

Then I blasted off, a clone pulling back one of my water specialists as I encased my body in wind and flung myself against the boulder that had popped out of the darkness as it was almost right in front of the formation. The moment of impact took my breath away, but the wind reduced most of the damage and the boulder crumbled around me. More came hurtling from the sky, and I whizzed from shinobi to shinobi, pulling them back, blasting a boulder, reverting course, saving the next one, my teeth chattering from the speed as I drove myself to go faster and faster, trying to catch every boulder before it could harm one of mine. Without clones it would've never worked, but hidden by darkness, half of them pulled my men to safety when I didn't manage it in time. The other half changed their voices as best they could, screaming for help, god, the nation, and everything in between to arrive and rescue them.

The barrage of boulders seemed endless. And yet, my men kept lobbing water at the camp until I gave them the sign to ease off, to slowly, one by one, stop their techniques. I crushed another rock, then came to an abrupt halt, my body covered in sweat, my breath heavy, my knuckles torn and bloody. A deep breath filled my lungs. In a hoarse roar I called the retreat—once, twice, three times, so that even a deaf Iwa-nin could've heard.

Edging away from the water, I wondered if they'd take the bait. If you knew what was coming, it seemed so nerve-wrackingly obvious. But what image had Iwa gotten of me and Konoha so far? We had smashed our noses bloody at the walls of Kumi Castle. Rōshi had fought me to a standstill. The clans had turned against us. And only some undetermined problem in Waterfall was the reason why Iwa had to give up some of their supremacy in Grass, having to beat a tactical retreat to the core regions of the country. I must look like an idiot to them, and only an idiot would order an attack on a fortification like this in a desperate ploy to gain back control.

I would've known if Rōshi was behind those walls, and the thought that he wasn't gave me confidence.

_Come now_, I found myself egging on the enemy commander, _come and get your shot at glory. I'm right here_. _You've broken us. We've called for a retreat. Come and get us already, whoever you are._

Nothing happened. Had they intuited it after all? Had attacking them with water been too obvious of a lure?

Then a war cry rose from behind the palisade, a cheer followed, and soon I made out a swell of Iwa-nin vaulting over the wall, onto the beach. Shields made of earth hovered in front and above of them, coming closer as they began their advance to hunt down the retreating enemy.

My heart grew lighter at the sight of so many running across the river, secure in their imminent victory. Even if we didn't get all of them and a few stayed behind that palisade, this was more than enough to even out the numbers. I rushed through a sequence of hand seals and blew life into a single, weak fireball—the signal. Like a lantern it arced above Iwa's heads, illuminating their victory-drunk faces before sinking into the water among sizzling and steam.

Lightning came racing across the river from two sides, arcs zapping up and down, rushing forth to meet Iwa's troops in a storm of high voltage and burnt limbs. Screams rose. The odor of singed flesh crowded the air. A few had jumped before the lightning could get to them, but where would they jump to? The moment they lost momentum in the air and had to come down, their feet would touch water. When several used Ninjutsu to navigate in the air, pushing themselves in different directions, my Genjutsu specialists on the flanks did their work. Confused, only two of the airborne Iwa-nin made it back over the palisade.

The others were easy pickings in their panic and a subtle nudge of the mind had them choose the wrong riverbank. Covered in sweat, their body shot with adrenalin, they landed crouching on the soft grass of the bank, barely having survived being electrocuted. When they looked up, relief changed to fear; for what they saw was me, my knife, and then nothing as they joined those of their fellow shinobi who had crawled out of the water and likewise found their end.

They had thought themselves too safe, too strong: invulnerable as the mountains they hailed from. The river was a ready source for their few water specialists should Konoha come with fire—which we tended to do—and their natural affinity to earth would secure them against any attempt to make the river their enemy.

Overconfidence, however, beat every affinity; and it was always lurking just beneath the surface, ready to come up and whisper in your ear, no matter who you were. Because fundamentally, shinobi liked power. They enjoyed it, and whoever said differently was lying. With power came temptation, though: a voice always present in the back of your mind, telling you to show off, to dominate, to shoulder the world . . . the shapes power took were endless, but, if they served your purpose, ready at hand.

From inconsequential to monumental, I had suffered all of them. I was sure everyone on my side, and everyone across that river, had done the same. Stoking the confidence of a shinobi, feeding the flames inside him, wasn't difficult. Not at all. Keeping yourself safe from it was the hard part, the one you struggled with your whole life.

Because even as I thought those things, I could feel it well up in my chest again: the knowledge that today would be a victory, and that every day from now on would be the same . . . Why? Because I had made it so, and would make it so once more. A wish so easy to give into, a passion too easy to drown in. This battle, in all its various forms, would play itself out again and again. Today. Tomorrow. Until I stopped being a shinobi, and even then, who knew what would happen?

But right now . . . right now I was alert, and I crushed pride under my heel, because this night was far from over.

* * *

I had left with a group of twenty, and I returned with a group of twenty. The latter part had by no means been assured, despite the successful ambush at the banks of the Shibō River. Behind that palisade had waited another crowd of Iwa-nin, hardy and blood-thirsty after having just listened to the screams of their brethren, and like enraged bears they had clawed at us, nothing but a red desire for vengeance in their eyes. I would've fought the same were the roles reversed, but I had no pity left. Every swipe of their claw was answered in kind, and by the end of it they lay dead while the men and women under my command, though injured, lived long enough for Miko and the other medic-nin to treat them.

Now, back at camp and all the adrenalin of the fight gone from my body, the forty-eight hours of rest I gave myself before setting out with the next force made time pass in a crawl. In the morning I would meet with Shikamaru to work through the reports that had stacked up during my absence, while also using the chance to draw up plans for the inevitable storm on Kumi Castle.

In the afternoons, I held training sessions, which turned out to be more popular than expected. Some Jōnin preferred to hone their styles in private, but a few of them and many Chūnin came in their spare time. I made the best of it. Every shinobi who could be taught a trick or two was one more finger raised to Death.

In the meanwhile, I also learned a soundproofing Genjutsu from one of our experts. A clone would keep it up while I slept. My people should not have to hear me scream and flail at night, which sadly was still a regular occurrence after Waterfall. I had avoided it on the mission by not sleeping and being done within a day and a half. But no one could guarantee that this would work again.

During my regular pause at the coffee tent, I kept my ear to the ground, listening to the pulse within the camp. Everyone and their dog had an opinion on what had happened in Waterfall. Some came closer to the truth than others. For the most part, though, they understood the results, but not what had caused them.

I would keep it that way. Waterfall would be a dark chapter in Konoha's history that only a few ever got to read. How many of those chapters already made up the village was hard to tell. How many had my father written? How many the old man, and every other Hokage? Not knowing might be safer for my sanity.

The same night, as I was doing the rounds, I heard bits and pieces from all over the encampment. As was tradition, the people thirsted for more, and newer, things. Soon the tale of our ambush at the Shibō River was starting to make an appearance, sending the speculations about Waterfall away with a pat on the back.

"Only scratches?" they asked.

"Only scratches," the Chūnin girl specializing in lightning returned with newfound confidence.

"Hell of a first gig!"

". . . should've seen them running . . ."

"And then the lightning . . ."

". . . would've liked to be there myself . . ."

"Must've been a spectacle!"

"You don't know the half of it . . ."

". . . caught every damn boulder on our way!"

"And what about . . . ?"

". . . finished them off, no sweat."

And on it went. The story certainly lifted their spirits. Later I learned from Shikamaru that a crate of sake had been 'liberated' from the stores, and subsequently been tackled and reduced to nothing that night. Songs rose, people got drunk and found comfort in each other's arms, and two brawls started and were ended just as quickly when either Shikamaru or I appeared in the periphery.

They'd had little enough to celebrate these past months in Grass that I didn't begrudge them the night of revelry.

I did however remember every voice I heard that night; and, being able to put name to face, in the early morning hours, with barely a bird awake, I called them all at once for a good training session to get rid of the hangover and discipline them for the stolen crate.

A camp had to have rules after all. I was sure Kakashi would have approved.

Time went by. Every third or fourth day I would set out with a force tailored to the surroundings of whatever location we were attacking. Iwa had grown more cautious, and our wounded more numerous, along the way. And yet it worked. Step by step, as their attention was divided between Grass and Waterfall, we drove Iwa farther inland, tightening the noose around Kumi Castle. The day we would storm that pile of rubble wasn't too far off now. With or without Fū.

During the third week, I extended my training from afternoon into night. Word spread. More and more shinobi were dropping in for longer and longer sessions. They had shown me respect when I took over command, but the admiration when they crossed paths with me now, and their eagerness, was strange beyond belief. I suspected that Haru was involved somehow. Out of respect for Subaru—though no one knew the details of his death—he had taken to wearing a white sash, reminiscent at least in part of the formal Hyūga garb. I tried to avoid looking at this constant reminder, but Haru often sought my company, and where he went, so did his zeal, which shone bright and eager in every eye.

"They love you," Shikamaru told me one noon in my tent.

I laughed. "Why would they? They haven't known me for a year. I damn well lost my first major battle. Respect me? Sure. I'm their commander, after all. But love? Not by a long shot."

He put down the report he'd been reading. "I'm amazed you can't see it. You're the epitome of a story to them."

"A horror story most likely."

"Troublesome . . . Think about it." He fished a cigarette out of his vest pocket. "You started as small as one could in Konoha, and made it all the way up to a large command. You've got a beautiful wife, who is also a Hyūga—and not just any Hyūga, but the eldest daughter of the clan head. In your first years of service, you have lost zero men on your teams. Do you know how rare that is? I was with you most of the time, and I _still_ can't believe we made it that long without losing a single shinobi."

"Kumi Castle . . ."

"You lost that battle," he said, taking a long drag. "But even though we were ambushed and pincered, more than half of our men have survived that disaster because of your clones. They saw you leap all over the field, helping comrade after comrade, all while holding another Jinchūriki at bay. Then we went to Waterfall, and suddenly Iwa is pulling back. And now? Now you're even leading strike forces deep into their territory, herding Iwa like cattle toward the castle. You've almost completely negated their numeric advantage. Can't you see that? We turned a horrible situation around. Or rather, _you_ turned it around. The stories you hear around the fires are nothing short of amazing." Shikamaru bared his teeth in a grin. "By the time those stories reach Konoha, they'll have made you into a god."

His words kept bouncing around in my head long after he was gone, but I couldn't bring myself to believe him fully. Even so . . . a god? But at what cost? I excused myself from my duty that day and sought out a quiet place, taking Kurotsuchi's diary with me. I had stopped reading after Kumi Castle, the memory of Rōshi too fresh, too painful, to read about him in a good light.

As I leafed through the pages, I noticed that finishing up the diary wouldn't take too much boldness after all. Kurotsuchi had only a few entries left, the majority of pages at the end were blank, the paper wrinkled at times where wet spots had dried. I sunk into her world, into strange missions, stranger training, and an easy companionship with my worst enemy in Grass, until I came to the last entry.

_It's been a long time since I last wrote, but I didn't have the time. The war took all of us by surprise, but there we are. Rōshi is confusing me, too. I can't tell if he's excited for the battles ahead or afraid. He should be the former. I know he loves fighting, especially strong enemies. After too much sake, he once told me that fighting was the only thing he really cared for before I came along. That was sweet of him to say. I always knew there's a cuddly bear beneath all that volcanic ash and red fur he calls a beard. And it only took him what, eight years? to finally show it? But that's what mother always told me. Men can be so thick sometimes that it takes an event of cataclysmic force to make them say anything about what's going on inside them. It's ridiculous, of course, but there we are._

_ I don't have much more time. I'll have to leave the diary here for now, since I can't be identified during this mission. I'm giddy, though. Finally I can prove myself to grandfather and Rōshi. I've waited for my chance, and this'll be it, I can feel it! There have been rumors that Konoha's Copycat is in the area, but I don't put too much stock in them. For a bunch of tree huggers, Konoha is surprisingly good about their counter intelligence, and Hatake Kakashi is the boogeyman they conjure up from time to time. I've heard enough stories. He can't be everywhere at once, and if right now he's at the border to Lightning, well, it stands to reason he won't be here. It's all just scaremongering anyway. And besides, if I fought and beat him, I'd have one hell of a story to tell Rōshi. He'd be proud, for sure._

When the ink ended, I sat numb with the open diary in my hand. I had never heard of the Tsuchikage's granddaughter before I got this book, and now I knew why. I had no concrete proof, of course, except the lack of her existence. But my gut told me well enough what had happened. Kakashi had snuffed Kurotsuchi out before she'd ever gotten the chance to prove her mettle to anyone.

Did Rōshi know who I was? Had he made the connection between me and Kakashi?

In a strange way, on that secluded branch with the Fall winds cutting through the foliage, I found myself mourning that girl from Iwa, whose view of the world had reminded me of myself quite often, and whose voice had afforded me respite now and then.

I closed the diary, trailing a finger over its battered spine and roughed-up leather cover. It could be used as a weapon. I knew enough of Rōshi's relationship with Kurotsuchi now to inflict real pain if I wanted to. The part of me forged in Waterfall urged me to it, but the knowledge felt so private, so intimate, that I found myself hesitating despite my vow to never again shy away from dirtying my hands if necessary.

Rising from the branch, I pushed the decision away and pocketed the diary in my vest. Reading had given me no peace of mind this time, had, if anything, created more problems, so I had to resort to another tried and true method.

Half an hour later I was overseeing a spar between Chūnin, focusing on making them better instead of myself.

"Don't let him get close to you," I shouted.

The kunoichi jerked away from her opponent, a stocky guy trying his hardest to stay in range so his fists could do some damage. To him I called out, "Don't stop. If she gets away you'll be nothing but target practice for her. Keep up!"

As they were nearing the end of their fight, a diminutive figure neared through the high grass.

Shima stopped in front of me, and I asked, "What is it?"

"Three of our patrols are coming back far earlier than expected." From under her coat sleeves came an agitated buzzing. "They will be here in half an hour."

"When were they scheduled to return?"

"Tomorrow evening."

My expression hardened. An early return could have several causes, but that three patrols came back at once put me in the mind of an escort mission. I was sure I knew whom they were bringing here.

I said, "I'll take care of it."

Shima saluted. The kunoichi had won in the meanwhile. A Chūnin trying to become a medic-nin practiced by patching up her and the big guy after the fight. The other trainees sat in a circle, talking over the various mistakes. "Keep going, everybody," I told them. "I have business to attend to."

Everyone, even the two wounded, scrambled to their feet and cried out "Sir!" in unison as I left them to themselves.

Shikamaru at my side, I waited at the entrance to the camp. My expectations weren't betrayed. Flanked by my patrols, Fū and a gaggle of shinobi staggered out from the underbrush. They were dirty and exhausted, and reeked of sweat and blood. Iwa had put them through their paces. The boy who had served me tea a month back wasn't among them.

Fū's eyes were alive though, and sharp as a razor.

"Get them settled in and give them what they need, Shikamaru."

He would keep an eye on them, or several. After our actions in Waterfall, an alliance might be the farthest from Fū's mind right now. That was the gamble we'd taken.

With a nod at the patrols, I welcomed this swarm of wasps into my camp.

"Let's take this somewhere private," I said to Fū.

"Yes," she said with a sweet look, "let's do that, Naruto."

* * *

I led her through the camp down into Orochimaru's former basement. The moment I had closed the door, her chakra became wild, willing to lash out at the slightest provocation. I matched hers with mine. The air in the room was getting charged.

Then Fū reined back her chakra until it was boiling just under the skin, pricking at my senses. Her lips stretched into a smile that was all teeth, showing off incisors sharp-edged like an animal's. "You sure did me dirty," she said. "Not in a million years I'd have expected that from you. It was a crazy move. A crazy, crazy move, Naruto."

My face told her nothing. I had learned from my mistake. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Come now, there is no need for lies, is there? We both know what happened in Waterfall."

I kept my voice hard as stone, as Danzō would have done. In a twisted way, Fū had been my teacher, and she was teaching me still, probing me, needling me, trying for reactions. I had to be cold, brutal, precise, or she would be gone, and with her all her men.

"I assure you, I don't know what you're on about."

She looked put out, then began circling me like a leopard its prey. If she dared to pounce, I'd smash her into the wall.

She said, "I suppose I did leave you with few options, didn't I? And you went where I'd never expected you to go. It's enough to make a girl feel violated. Your woman must have a lot of fun with you."

"I have things to do, Fū. You should be the same, given what I heard is going on in Waterfall right now. Frankly I'm surprised you came here. Have you had a change of mind?"

"Oh, yes," she said. "I have had a lot of thoughts about what to do with you. To stoop so low as to betray an ally and give information to an enemy nation is . . . quite something. I'm sure your men would be thrilled about knowing what their commander got up to."

"As far as I know you're the one who started a decade long war by giving away secrets to foreign powers. It honors you that you try to do the right thing now by upholding a weak semblance of resistance, but you don't seem to do too good of a job at it."

Her eyes widened. Her composure slipped. For a moment, the hurt stood so plain on her face, so visceral, that I felt like the biggest scumbag on earth. I was neck-deep in muck now, and no shower in the world would ever get this off me.

"You know . . ." she whispered.

"What I know is how to get out of this situation," I said. "I told you about my plan back in Waterfall. Have you reconsidered?"

She was struggling to get herself back under control. Her chakra lay so heavy in the air, it would have suffocated normal men. On her face, madness and fragility kept chasing one another, and I honestly couldn't tell whether she'd cry next or start a fight with me.

I pressed on. "What is it going to be, Fū? Are you here to follow?"

Violence flickered across her face. "And what if I said I'm not? Would you do the same as you did in Waterfall? Have you become the big bad now, and could stomach killing all of my people after we sought refuge in your camp? What would that do to your image? What would that do _to you_?"

"How many of your men will still follow you if they learn that you betrayed your own country? How many would put the knife to you themselves?" I put an edge into my tone. "If you endanger my people, Fū, I will end you, right here, right now. So I'm asking again, are you here to follow?"

She stood close enough that I expected a knife in my stomach any second now. Half a minute passed in silence, in which we stared at one another, then she wheeled around to the map.

"I'll be good, Chief. My men are yours." I wasn't fooled. The madness was there, even if she leashed it tightly. But at this point I took what I could get. "What's the plan again?" she asked, slapping her palm on the map. Her hand was trembling.

"Killing Iwa-nin."

"Oh, look at you," she burst out in a giggle. Her voice had once more taken on its sing-song quality. "I almost feel like a proud parent right now, you know? One talk between us, just a few minutes, and look how you changed! It's amazing how fast they grow up, isn't it? Just you wait. A few more years and you won't even recognize yourself anymore. Ain't that fantastic? All that weakness gone. The world's yours, Chief. It truly is."

The knife came, and it went deeper than expected. I didn't move a muscle, but damn if that hadn't hurt.

"My apologies," she said with faux-contrition. "I'll behave."

I explained the plan curtly. With her I had to keep up this spiel until we went our parted ways. If ever I showed weakness, even just a glimpse, she'd rip out my throat with her bare teeth and throw my corpse to the vultures.

* * *

Shikamaru and I agreed that we had to set out as soon as possible. Fū had left a few people in Waterfall to make trouble. They would continue spinning the narrative of an uprising to keep Iwa busy. That gave us at least some time, but I had little faith in them to hold out forever.

On a more personal note, the earlier we ended this, the better. Having to keep Fū and her men this close was the best revenge anyone could have come up with. It was like knowing that somewhere there was a fire but never being able to find it and put out the flames.

The morning after her arrival we moved toward Kumi Castle. My recon teams scouted out the areas we were passing through. One errant Iwa patrol crossed our path. Fū took care of them with a smile, bounding towards that duty with a spring in her step. I later got reports that it had been a horrific slaughter. The messenger kept staring at his toes, too embarrassed to look me in the eyes and show weakness.

I clapped his shoulder. "Chin up, man. We're on our way to victory. Stare right at it." My words did the job. The man straightened, saluted, and was gone.

Half a day into our journey, I got news from the patrols keeping their eyes on the eastern border. Rōshi had been sighted, moving out of Grass and into Waterfall. Even Shikamaru was taken aback. Without their Jinchūriki, Iwa would have no chance at all to defend the castle.

"My men are very creative, Chief. Almost as creative as you when it comes to raising hell." Fū was leering at me and Shikamaru. There was a fine sheen of murder in Shikamaru's eyes. Fū's presence proved a constant reminder of what we had tried leaving behind ever since coming back from Waterfall, worse even than Haru's white sash. As long as she was with us, she'd make sure we didn't forget.

Also, Rōshi's departure was such a tremendous help that I became wary. The only reason for too many good surprises to arrive at once was that they were running away from a giant hailstorm of trouble coming in right behind them.

In the evening, we made camp only a few hours south of Kumi Castle, in the same ruinous city where we had licked our wounds after our first loss. Tomorrow, we'd take down the last pillar of Iwa's control in Grass. I looked up the moss-covered tower, where the memories of my clones had almost ripped my mind apart. It stood crooked and shadowed in the twilight, like a bad omen. As if the last cup of instant ramen in the pantry was spoiled. I shook my head. Since moving in, Hinata had made sure that there'd always be enough stuff in the pantry. This wasn't the time to start believing in crap like bad omens.

I should've listened to my gut, not my head. When the blow came, it was a haymaker that laid me out flat.

"Say that again." A kunoichi had come from Konoha. She was somber, black slacks all around. Her bearing made her out to be from ANBU, doubling as a post-nin and a messenger. We stood outside the hall where my men were eating.

"The Godaime Hokage, Danzō-sama, is dead. It happened four days ago. Tsunade-sama did the best she could, but whatever ailed him was stronger than her healing."

I was staring at the woman like I had seen the ghost of Danzō manifest behind her. I asked her to repeat it a third time. She did. Danzō was dead. And I learned of it the night before the most important mission in this whole operation. It said a lot that not a single of my thoughts went towards sorrow.

"Have you told anyone?"

"Only you, sir."

"Keep it that way. Are you going straight back to Konoha?"

"After I deliver a few letters, sir. I'll take the mail from your headquarters on my way back. Are there any letters you want to give me in person?"

"I haven't got it on me. It's at the base," I said. "On my desk, purple twine. It goes to my wife, Uzumaki Hinata."

The messenger was waiting for me to dismiss her. I gave her a nod, and she vanished inside the hall, handing out letters.

Shikamaru joined me outside. "Perfect timing before the attack." Cigarette smoke was writhing upwards the moment he stepped across the sill. "Reading news from home will do the men some good."

"You're going to die early if you keep that pace," I said.

"Smoking won't kill me earlier than this work, that's for sure." His brow furrowed. "You look as if you've seen a ghost."

"You're on the right track." Everyone was inside to read and eat, but I couldn't chance being overheard. I pulled up a sound Genjutsu. It went more or less smoothly. The weeks of training had paid off. "Danzō is dead."

Shikamaru stared at me blankly for a while, ash towering on his cigarette stub. Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. I could hear him count to ten in his mind. He looked like I felt.

"This is bad news," he said. We were both observing a hare flitting across the street, into the overgrown grass straddling the buildings.

"I suppressed it for now. The messenger said she hasn't told anyone else."

"When did it happen?"

"Four days ago. Tsunade couldn't do anything else for him, it seems."

"Of all the times to—" Shikamaru's head swiveled around so fast, I was afraid it would twist out of his neck. "Four days? It takes a messenger at most two and a half to get here."

I shrugged. "Maybe she was waiting a day to make the mail load worth the trip. It's a dangerous mission."

"Have you any idea what—"

The door to the hall jarred open. I dispelled the sound illusion the moment Haru stepped out to us. His face looked more concerned than usual. From inside the hall came a murmur of voices that steadily grew louder.

"Sir."

"What is it, Haru?"

"Would you talk about the issue of Danzō-sama's death, sir? The men just read the news. They are getting restless."

I stared at him. _Read the news?_ Then it struck me.

The letters: two words that kept hammering my mind as if it were a training log. The letters. The letters. The _fucking_ letters.

"Sir?"

I snapped out of it. Shikamaru was fingering the pack of cigarettes in his vest pocket, fishing for the next one. I would take up an unhealthy habit, too. Something I could spite Death with and shout, 'Come and get me if you dare.'

"I'll speak to them in a few," I told Haru.

He nodded and went back inside. The door closed, dimming the light and reducing the noise. I pulled up the sound illusion again. "I can't believe I didn't think about the letters," I said to Shikamaru. "On a scale of one to ten, how screwed am I?"

"I'd give it a solid eight," he said. "Morale is a fickle thing, but so far I've never heard a story where the death of a leader has raised it."

"Right before the attack . . . I knew things were going too well." I barked a laugh. "Damn this place. Damn this fucking war. I don't want to anymore, Shikamaru. I've had enough of this shit. All I want is to be home with my family."

"So does everybody else," he said. "Their best chance to make it back to them is you keeping it together. That's your responsibility."

"I didn't ask for it."

"You chose command."

"It wasn't much of a choice, was it?" I said heatedly.

Shikamaru leaned back against the building. "So you would've done any different had Danzō given you the option to say no? I find that hard to believe."

I was very nearly about to stomp my foot like a five-year old and just about held myself back. I was hot all over my body, and sweating all of a sudden. My arms were shaking. The owls seemed distant at first, and then as if they were right next to me, their hoots vibrating in my ears and stomach. I looked around, my eyes seizing on nothing and everything at once. Hold it together and take responsibility for everyone inside that hall?

I was about to laugh when my facial muscles contracted. I stopped in this frozen, open-mouthed and soundless cry, and then snapped my mouth shut like a box that held all the horrors of the world in it. Deep breaths. In, out. In, out. In, out. Align it with your heart. It was still beating, quick but slowing now. Shikamaru was saying something. I didn't understand him. In, out. Was he calling my name? Was he speaking? He was. His voice, low and soothing, was stringing sentences together. In, out. My spiraling thoughts calmed. I felt as if I was slowly being dragged out of quicksand as my facial muscles relaxed. I hadn't even noticed how tense my jaw and the rest of my body had gotten in the attempt to keep my mouth shut and that mad, frenzied laugh inside.

"Naruto."

I gasped for air. "I . . . I don't know what that was."

"Me neither," Shikamaru said. He seemed uncomfortable for a moment, then put his hand on my shoulder. "Listen, I'll be with you every step of the way. But we have to tell them something. The truth. And also that it's going to be alright. One more victory and Grass is ours, that kind of thing. I'll be with you. Don't forget that. It'll be troublesome as hell, but we can do it. We had worse before. And you know how to give speeches. I've seen you training this with your clones."

He was right. Oddly enough, it was the embarrassment that he had seen me practicing giving speeches, the normalcy of that embarrassment, that brought me fully back into reality. I had no idea what had come over my body and mind there, but I was getting myself back under control.

"Two minutes," I said. "A quick breather, then I'll do it."

Shikamaru gave me an encouraging smile. I would have gone mad a dozen times over already if not for him, and I wondered how I'd ever be able to repay that kind of debt.

At length, I said, "Alright." I had formed the bare bones of what I wanted to say, a spark of an idea that might get me somewhere. Now it came down to execution and how well I could improvise.

Side by side, we stepped into the hall.

* * *

Logs were crackling in the two large fireplaces lining the walls. It had once been a temple, then a town hall, now a ruin we made use of. There was a cold draft; the wind kept rattling the shutters. The tables, some fixed, some broken, formed ranks in front of the fires. Shinobi and kunoichi sat on benches, hunched over bowls of barley gruel. A few nibbled on ration bars; others were done with food and kept to their canteens. There was a conversation in the air, growing loudest where shinobi had opened the letters that were now lying on the table. Everyone in reach was trying to glimpse new information, even though the letter had likely been read a dozen times already.

When I crossed the hall each step felt as if I had Lee's weights bound to my ankles. Conversation died down to a deathly quiet. The plodding of my boots, Shikamaru's softer steps, the click of his lighter, and the whistling of the wind were all the sound in the world. It was a solemn mood as we took up position in front of the tables, on a stone elevation where decades ago priests had preached, and mayors had announced.

The eyes of about two hundred people followed every one of my motions—Fū's among them. She was leaning against the wall opposite the fireplaces, watching me with an unreadable face as I let my gaze swivel across the hall.

No matter how much I wanted to get this over with, I couldn't allow myself to rush this. Jiji had been a fantastic story teller. He'd been slow and steady, raising and lowering his voice when he had to, but always having me hang on his lips for the next word. I would never be even half as good, but I had to give it my best now.

When enough time had passed, I started.

"As you know by now, Danzō-sama died four days ago. This news comes as a tragedy, but not as a surprise." I paused. "Understandably, most of you look confused by this last part. But our Godaime had already been battling with an illness, a poison to be exact, before we set out to make Grass our own."

"_Naruto_." Shikamaru's whisper was urgent.

"You couldn't know this," I went on, keeping my tone somber. "What I'm revealing right now was, and still is, classified as an S-rank secret. The Brass will give me no end of trouble for telling you, that's how they are, but right now I don't rightly care for what the Brass has to say. All of you have followed me up to this point. You bled for Grass, had friends, even family, die for it. You earned the right to know why we're here. Why this campaign is possible. And more importantly, who made it so."

I let them chew on these words for a moment, then continued, "This place is ours, because the Godaime gave his life to take out Orochimaru, who had dug in his heels right here in Grass." A murmur rippled through the room. Even decades after his treachery, Orochimaru's name hadn't lost any of its menace. "Most of you have seen the inside of his hideout, where he conducted his experiments. It is the same kind of torture he'd visited on us when he was still a Konoha-nin. Some have probably wondered why he isn't stopping our operations in this country, where he had managed to evade our reach for years. Well, that is the reason.

"Orochimaru was a snake, slippery and quick to escape no matter who was hunting him. Jōnin, ANBU, Jiraiya and Tsunade of the Sannin—it didn't matter, did it? For all their strength they failed to catch him. Then Danzō-sama went to Grass. He found the snake. He killed it. And he suffered the price for his courage. For the bravery necessary to take on Konoha's largest shadow. To rid us of our worst nightmare."

I knew from personal experience that every child of Konoha grew up with a fervent love for the Hokage. Time might dull that adoration. War sometimes smeared it with dirt until it was unrecognizable. But even if the Will of Fire was reduced to nothing but glowing embers and ashes, it would never go out completely. All it needed was the right wind to rekindle it, and to fan it up again into the bonfire it once was.

In the faces before me shone a sudden fire of loyalty and imagined heroism that set the hairs on my neck to stand straight. I grew louder as I went on, "Now we are here, in Grass, the very place the Godaime fought in. The very place he sacrificed _his_ future for _our_ future. He not only rid us of Orochimaru, but also gave us this chance to gain control of the war—to bring an end to it. Danzō-sama was the epitome of what a Hokage ought to be! And his last mission for us was to take this country: to control Grass—every damn inch of it, from the rivers down south to the mountains up north, and everything in between. And I"—I thrust my fist at the direction of Kumi Castle—"I count that castle among those inches. And I will take it down, brick by brick if I have to, if it means kicking out Iwa from the place the Godaime died for. If it means winning this war. For Konoha!"

There was no need for me to say anything else. The hall picked up the last word I had roared at them, and from every corner flung these three syllables back at me: "Ko-no-ha! Ko-no-ha!" They were stomping their feet and bashing their canteens and fists on the table. From the rafters it echoed: "Ko-no-ha! Ko-no-ha!"

Shikamaru looked as though he couldn't decide whether to be happy or worried. I had motivated them alright. I had also given up a secret that hadn't been mine to give. Eventually he shrugged, flicked away the bud of his cigarette, and raised his fist in the air with all the others who had done so. He, too, began to shout: "Ko-no-ha. Ko-no-ha."

In that swell of noise, I took special note of Fū's corner. Her men looked out of their element, and, in their dwindled numbers, uncomfortable with the sudden aggressive sounds all around them. Fū herself sketched a tiny bow and shot me an insufferable smirk. She knew, then, that even though the facts were correct, I didn't quite believe what I had said.

But right now it didn't matter how dirty I felt. My people cried out for victory in every syllable, and only a fool would not answer their call.

Amidst all the chanting, Haru, having stood in the front row with an expression of ecstatic fervor, sprang forward. In one tug he ripped the white sash from his belt and threw it onto the stage. It landed in front of my feet, and lay there outstretched like a shawl, a flag of some kind.

A flag of what, though? I had no clue what he was up to. All I saw was that Shikamaru's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. My men's chants were thundering in my ears. Their stomping feet set the hall to shiver. Then a kunoichi in the second row followed Haru's lead. It was Miko, the Chūnin to whom just a few months ago I had explained Jiraiya's wisdom of changing the meaning of bad things when the thought of Orochimaru's hideout became too much to bear. Again, she wore her red, long-sleeved shirt under her vest. She tore off one sleeve, bundled it up, and let it sail onto the stage as well, where it fell right onto the white shawl.

Most people were still shouting Ko-no-ha, but now a new call was raised, and as it reverberated in the hall it shook me to my core.

_ Ro-ku-daime._

_ Ro-ku-daime._

_ Ro-ku-daime_.

My vision went fuzzy. I stared at the two overlapping sleeves of red and white, and trembled at what they symbolized. I looked at Shikamaru, but he was all out of help. He stood staring transfixed at the mob that was trying to make me their Hokage outside of any regular process.

What should I do? If I started to call myself the new Rokudaime, the people back in Konoha would go ape-shit. I might even be court-martialed for that kind of stuff. And what about Shino? He wouldn't take this lying down. This was still a race between us, after all. And Hinata? God, they would hardly leave her and Chie alone if I declared myself Hokage. Would I be able to explain my way out of this?

And yet, my dream . . . for the first time it was truly in reach, and that literally.

The crowd was getting louder and louder. They had found their rhythm, and their feet pounded the floor in time with each syllable. If I denied them here, all the work I had done to raise their morale would be shot. Jiji had once told me that it was easier to unleash a storm than to cage it. Now I understood what he meant better than I ever thought I would.

My heart boomed like a storm in my chest. Blood surged through my body, loud and vicious.

As if in a trance, I reached down and grabbed both sleeves in my sweaty fist, raising them above my head to a thunderous cheer. The colors of the hat, the office of Hokage . . .

It wasn't mine to take.

I took it anyway.

* * *

"I don't know what happened any better than you do," I said, treading a circle into the foundation of the chamber. The room was hazy with smoke and drenched in anxiety. "I've got no idea what happened. No damn clue. It just did, okay? It happened. Things happen. You know that."

"You took them," Shikamaru said. "You took those bands and you held them up."

I wheeled around, ready to lay into him. I stopped. He looked just as out of it as I felt. He was merely stating facts at this point. Cigarette buds piled up around his feet, and he sat on the table, smoking as though this was the last night of his life where he could.

"I didn't know what else to do. I mean, what would've happened? I say no, and then what? They're getting down in the dumps and Iwa slaughters us tomorrow?" I resumed my pacing. "I had to. That's what I'll say to the Brass if they ask. I had to. It's the truth. Things went out of control, I acted, things got better. That ought to make them see."

"I'm not sure they'll view it that way."

"Well, what else was I supposed to do?"

Shikamaru reached for the sake instead of answering. The operation would begin in six hours. "Do I call you Hokage-sama now?"

"I don't know," I said, taking a deep draft from the bottle myself. "I don't know, okay? It sounds strange. It's unofficial anyway. You think they'll call me Hokage-sama when I go out there?"

"After tonight? I wouldn't put it past them."

I stopped at the shuttered window. My hands had been nervous the whole time. Again and again they found their way to the red and white sleeves that were tied to my vest like tassels now. "I don't know what to do. What _can_ I do? They would've been the worst kind of suckers tomorrow had I thrown those sleeves away. It's impossible. I had to."

"I guess so. It'll be a hard thing to sell the Brass, no matter how we spin it."

"Dammit, Shikamaru, what am I supposed to do?" I ran my hand through my hair. "This isn't how I wanted it to happen."

"Are you sure?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are you sure this isn't how you wanted it to happen?"

I said, "It's unofficial—"

"—which makes it troublesome, yes," Shikamaru cut in, "but it was still one hell of a coronation. I've known you long enough now to realize that this, however bad it might turn out for us, gave you goosebumps. I know I had them. I'd be very surprised if you didn't."

I glared at him, most likely because he was right. I had enjoyed it, in all its stupid glory. I would never forget how every breath had been electrified, and how their shouts of Rokudaime had echoed in that hall. And yet, did that make it alright? Did the circumstances justify what I had done this evening?

I chose to deflect. "Are you drunk?"

"No more than you," he said. "I'm just being honest." He shrugged. "Maybe it's infectious. You can't find more honesty than you did in that hall. They were roaring their honest desire in your face. I'm definitely no fan of how they went about things, but at least having you as their Hokage is a wish I can get behind, stubborn as you are."

I was touched, and more affected by his words than I let show. "It's still unofficial," I said. "It was probably a spur of the moment thing and nothing more. I bet they'll have second thoughts come morning."

"Dream on, Naruto. They chose you, however bad their timing. You've got an army of shinobi that literally shouted themselves hoarse for you to become their leader." He took another swig, then raised the bottle in salute. "Not too shabby for an orphan and former dead last, I'd say. You did good. In your strange and unpredictable ways, you did good."

I took the bottle from him. He was getting a bit _too_ honest, and I had no idea how to deal with open acknowledgment of this kind.

"Maybe," I said, copying his second-favorite word. "But I've got to deal with the fallout for now. Do you think I should write the Brass, trying to explain before things get out of hand?"

"It's a start," he said. "They'll be mad no matter what you do, but better they hear it from you than some random messenger."

"Can you imagine the look on their faces if some Chūnin tells them that they've got a new Rokudaime they know nothing about?" I let slip a laugh before sobering up again. The liquor was getting to me, too. "That's actually not that funny if you think a bit longer about it," I said. "I'll write that in the letter, too. That I had no other choice. That it's only temporary. A morale thing. I'll give them Grass on a platter for it. And maybe even Waterfall being pacified, and Iwa driven out of there. That ought to calm them down."

"You're making an awful amount of promises."

"It's about all I can do. Otherwise they'll send ANBU to cart me away the moment they hear of this. I don't even want to know what Hinata is going to think. How's that for staying out of trouble, huh? A good job you did, keeping me safe. Hinata won't be happy with you either." He avoided my eyes, and I waved him off. "Don't sweat it. I'm not mad about that stuff anymore." I held up the red and white tassels. "As you might have noticed, right now I've got bigger problems."

"That's an understatement. Imagine the stories you can tell Chie when she's old enough."

I laughed. "And that, honey, is how they made me the illegal Rokudaime. What do you think of your old man now, eh?" My face fell. "Damn, I really can't see the humor in this for longer than a second. They'll fry me alive."

"Then we should get started on that letter."

So we did, both sitting bent over a scroll, trying to find words for the unspeakable thing that had happened, even as the upcoming attack was coming ever closer.

I was glad for Shikamaru's intellect. Even drunk, he had more grace in his writing than I at my very best. Whether the Brass would take my groveling and run with it, or send a group of Oi-nin after me, I didn't know. Later we decided not to let the men call me Rokudaime and have them get used to it. Let them see the tassels and draw motivation from that and memory. I'd have them call me sir, as always.

I had liked the sound of Rokudaime, though.

Only a fool wouldn't be dazzled by its glamor.

* * *

End of Chapter


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: **Everything belongs to Masashi Kishimoto.

* * *

**Rokudaime**

Chapter 10

* * *

The morning came cold and early. It had rained throughout the night, and I stood in the middle of a muddy road, pulling my cloak tight over my vest. The aftershock of the last day sat deep in my bones, but I had no time to explore the deluge of new feelings. I knew the pride. I knew the fear. The rest would sort itself out eventually.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

I nodded to Haru. "I've got a mission that I can't trust anyone else with but you."

His face turned grave. The word Rokudaime lay heavy on his tongue, but he abided by the rules. "What is it, sir? I will see it done."

I gave him the scroll Shikamaru and I had worked on during the night. Haru reverently brushed his finger across the black twine that showed its S-rank.

"Get this either to Jiraiya or Tsunade," I said. "No one else. You're authorized to use whatever force you deem necessary to get it to them. Jiraiya might not be in Konoha. Tsunade definitely will be, though. Get it to one of them, then come back. Don't read it. Don't let anyone else read it. If someone tries to take it from you, knock them out. Hard and fast."

He secured the scroll. "I will, sir. I won't allow the mission to be compromised."

I clapped his shoulder. "By the time you're back, the castle will be ours. And . . . Haru?"

"Yes, sir?"

"While in Konoha, keep the Rokudaime thing to yourself. Consider this a secondary S-rank mission. I'll make sure you're compensated for both, so you can buy your kids something nice once the campaign is over."

I watched his retreating back as he hurried across the rutted path. It was a gamble to send Haru of all people to Konoha, but I counted on his zeal to make him shut up. Besides, this way I avoided him calling out an empire in my name next, or following me into battle and misguidedly taking a blow for me. He was one of the last people from my original squad still alive. For all the fervor he'd lately developed, I still remembered when he had told me about his daughter going to the Academy. It was bias, of course, but I wanted to keep him alive by whatever means I had.

Two hours later, I stood at the same spot from which I had observed Kumi Castle the first time around. Hidden by shrubs and trees, I looked out at the ruined village cozying up to the wall. Iwa's forces were depleted, Rōshi had been seen leaving for Waterfall, and I had Fū and her rebels bolstering our numbers. On paper, things looked stellar.

But the paper didn't reveal everything. Iwa-nin were mulish, stubborn bastards, hard of mind and as stony as the wasteland they came from. Even with reduced numbers they would give us one hell of a fight.

And I would only believe that Rōshi was gone when I had planted Konoha's flag on the castle's highest tower. That red-headed muscle monster had tricked me two times now. I wouldn't put it past him to try for a triple. He was a crafty old man, like Jiji had been, and you underestimated those geezers at your peril.

Which was beside the point that I still had Fū around.

Her troops were vital. She was also crazy enough to stab me in the back when I needed her the most. I was banking on her hate for Iwa. I could only hope that it outlasted her hate for me.

Shikamaru would keep an eye on her during the battle, ordered to do whatever was necessary should she turn sides. I also wouldn't split up my forces this time. I wanted everyone around me, where I could see them and, more importantly, reach them quickly.

When the time came, I lifted my hand to the sky, and a rustling swept through the lines behind me as shinobi and kunoichi got into position. A last, deep breath, to calm the blood thrumming in my body, then I let my arm fall back down and leapt out of hiding.

It was a frontal attack the likes of which shinobi usually saw very little of. No hidden agenda of loping around this time. No Genjutsu, no traps and ambushes like those I'd employed during recent raids. They were expecting them. Let them worry. Today we ran at the walls of Kumi Castle as a single thrust of Konoha's blade. One sweep at this country's artery, and Iwa would be bleeding out. It would be the most curative blood-letting this country could get.

And despite every calculation, every foresight of what could happen, I thought I had lost it when Iwa's blade answered in a swell of shinobi, who came vaulting over the castle walls, abandoning their position to meet us head-on. They had nothing to gain by leaving their defensive structures.

A shout came from my right, before a similar one was echoed on the left. We were on full collision course. Had they snuck troops around to take us by the flanks?

"Brace yourself! Hold fast!" I roared, calling up two clones. I vaulted onto their linked hands and let them catapult me into the sky. A flight of birds dispersed in panic as I turned amidst them, gaining height while searching for Rōshi. No matter where he had been sighted before, this had to be him.

I found him rushing at us from the woods west of the castle. He was taking big leaps, and the mud from all the rain played right into his hands. Wherever his feet touched the floor, a dragon's head rose from the sodden earth, grass-speckled and terrible, its chakra-enforced jaws open wide to send a barrage of house-sized bullets into our formation. I counted four, with two more on the rise. The control to keep all of them up struck me as insane. Was this the kind of ability granted to you by training your element for five decades?

Shikamaru's frantic orders down below organized our forces, though. Earthen walls rose to meet the mud bullets; fire and lightning shot out to send them veering off-course.

More shouts rose. I turned to my right flank while gravity pulled me back to earth. The tallest man I had ever seen came sprinting at us from the east. Even from up high I had the feeling he doubled me in height, and that without the large straw hat covering his face. He was trailing a giant cloud of steam behind him, his body armor glowing red, and the closer he got, the louder the noise surrounding him grew—a hissing, sputtering kind of sound, snakelike but mechanical, that rattled in my very bones.

I was halfway back to the ground when I truly sensed him, and knew who had come to face us alongside Rōshi. I had heard of Han, Iwa's second Jinchūriki. I had never thought to see him here, though.

My heart sank. Four Jinchūriki in one place. If ever there was a recipe for disaster, it was this. Would the Tenmen Treaty survive this day?

"Naruto!"

I looked down at the rapidly approaching ground. Shikamaru pointed east, where Fū was rushing out to meet Han. To fight or to unite with him? I couldn't say. I had no time for that kind of worry anymore. All the pieces were in place. Whether I had put them on the board the right way, only time would tell.

I landed with my feet secured in the hands of my clones. "I'll take Rōshi," I said to Shikamaru, then raised my voice so that everyone could hear, "Back to the wasteland with them! _For Konoha_!"

Standing on top of my clones, I threw off my cloak. The red and white tassels tied to my vest were whipping in the wind as the cries of my shinobi rose to answer my own.

Shikamaru was right. They had no second thoughts. Against all odds, they were with me. From the sound of it until the end of time.

And for a moment, for a tiny sliver of time, the horror of this war—the death, the sacrifice, the tears and screams—vanished from my mind, wiped away like dirt from Konoha's streets after a heavy summer rain. For this fleeting second, basking in their acceptance and the unequivocal respect they showed me, I felt glorious, as if my face too had already been immortalized in stone, and I would join my father now on his watch over the village.

Then my clones hurled me into the sky a second time, while below me and an army of myself went to assist my troops. If I wanted to survive the aftermath of this battle, and the impact of my clones, then I had to end all this as fast as possible. Right now it didn't feel like too much of a task. Right now, I was invincible.

Among the clouds, another clone spun me around, then sent me hurtling right into Rōshi's path.

They said luck favors the bold. If that was true, then I would make an entrance to knock that gal off her feet.

I shot toward Rōshi like an arrow, gathering wind around me, squeezing as much of it as I could into as small an area as possible and coating my very skin with it. The shearing force ignited the air in front of my eyes. Blood rushed in my ears. A whistling surrounded me, growing louder and shriller each moment. I gritted my teeth, then gave up, and my mouth opened in a scream that echoed in my head like a mad, distorted screech.

I hit the ground in front of Rōshi with enough force to send mud and grass flying up around us in a wide circle, leaving nothing but hard rock underfoot. Then the rock cratered. My feet sank deeper as the earth split underneath.

I raised my eyes. Rōshi was right in front of me, fist cocked back, fury stenciled in his face.

I let go of the wind.

The world took a deep breath and held it. There was a spark in front of me, as if I had struck two flints together—a tiny glimmer of contained force. Then, with a single, overwhelming boom, the wind blasted out of me, launching Rōshi away and leveling everything around him for two miles back. The dragon maws Rōshi had called to harangue my troops disintegrated and scattered, like ashes thrown into the sea. The tree line to the west collapsed with a rumble.

When it was over, I had left a cone-shaped swath of destruction in front of me. No mud, no vegetation, no rocks but the bare earth. That sound of unleashing the wind, I was sure, had been heard all the way to Konoha.

Rōshi was struggling to his feet. Volcanic stone encrusted half his body. The other half was crumbling off, revealing reddish and torn skin.

I was in front of him a split second later, lashing out with my leg. Still dazed, Rōshi did his best to fend off the violent air that struck at him with every new blow. One palm thrust sheared away the left side of his beard. Another cracked the armor around his knee, shredding away the skin underneath. He buckled and I set up for another hit, one that would knock him back on his ass for sure.

The people fighting behind me, the sheer weight of their sacrifice, drove me forward. They had given me the tassels, had put their hopes and dreams on my shoulders, saw me as Rokudaime, perhaps even more. Whatever my feelings about the matter, however illegally owned that title was, today I would rise to it, surpass it, and make sure that they were justified. They had earned nothing less, and there would be no stopping until I had won.

A memory crashed my early celebration. The clone had been speared on an earthen pike together with Miko, whom he had tried to protect—Miko, who just yesterday had thrown her red sleeve onto the stage, chanting Rokudaime at me.

I blinked, lost my rhythm. Then I was flying backwards, the cloud-streaked sky shooting by. I bounced, rolled, and found my stop.

Rōshi was there. Memories came. The dance continued.

It started to rain again.

* * *

I wiped my lips and spat out a wad of blood. My left eye was swollen shut, and I ached to my bones. The red tassel had been torn loose and lay buried somewhere in the mud. Rōshi, for all that, wasn't any better off. We had danced, every step a new act of violence, and we looked the part. As did the world around us. The rain had turned it into a disgusting, blood-soaked mess. Kumi Castle loomed behind us, impersonal and gray.

All that stuff that had ballooned in my chest earlier was gone, drowned in this soggy swamp like an unwanted newborn. History made flesh? Shouldering their sacrifice? I had no idea what had made me forget the horror of this war, but now I was living it again, every memory adding to the weight. So many faces, drawn in death. So many people who only hours ago had called me Rokudaime in absolute elation, and now lay dead in this godforsaken mud hell.

And for what?

I couldn't beat Rōshi. Not like this. Likewise, he couldn't beat me. Not like that. Without our Bijū we were truly equals, locked into a stalemate that would go on forever. A hysterical laugh threatened to burst out of me. How long was I supposed to stay in Grass, away from my family, losing man after man? Would Rōshi be my enemy for eternity now? He the castle, and I the battering ram?

I itched to give him a taste of the Kyūbi. If I brought my Bijū to bear, the earth around us would be left a bed of flaming rock, his body a pile of ash on top of it. Was he thinking the same? To go at it a last time and decide this futile fight for good?

I was gearing up for it. He was, too. The miasmic chakra became more present, tendrils of it licking at the air around us.

My thoughts turned more feral. Let him come. Let him try. I was tired of this. Of all the death. Of all the memories. Better end it here, and end it quick, and then be done with it. The Tenmen Treaty be damned. Anything would be better than this blackish dirt in my mind. Anything at all. A last uproar of color, an explosion of red where only ever darkening gray was lurking, and then all would be over. That was all . . . I was . . . All I wanted was to . . .

Shikamaru landed with a splash in the mud next to me. He had a bright red cut going from his ear to his chin.

His voice came to me through a dull haze. I didn't understand a word of it.

"What?" I asked, never taking my eyes off Rōshi. We would soon go at it. Both of us were ready. Both of us were . . .

"Iwa . . . routing. We . . . over three quarters of them. They're running . . . the hills. Fū . . . Han the whole time. I heard her laugh a few . . . been enjoying this." He was holding his side in pain.

"Iwa is . . . running away?"

He made an agreeing noise.

"Fū hasn't betrayed us?"

"No."

"The clans? Are the clans attacking us somewhere?"

He looked at me. "We won. On all levels, Naruto, we won."

How could I believe him? I had been dancing with Rōshi all this time, and there he still stood: not hale, not healthy, but well enough to go another round at least. No blow had really ended our fight. Even if the roars of happiness rising behind me were unmistakable, it couldn't be over, could it? I refused to believe that.

I stared at Rōshi.

Had I won, even though it didn't feel like victory? I heard cheers when I should have heard cries of agony and death. The world made no sense to me. How could they be happy? I had all this horror, this blackish waste, in my mind.

How? _How?_

The next time I blinked, all I saw was Roshi's torn back, the blood-red, tattered remains of his armor hanging from his shoulders as he leapt away. I tried to follow, but my legs wouldn't let me, as if seeing his retreat had sucked the strength right out of them.

The battle had ended. Just like that. I kept glancing around, searching for another enemy. I clenched and unclenched my fists. I had all this pent-up frustration, all this anger that I wanted to unload on someone. My mind was racing ahead of me. I had been so close to tapping into the Kyūbi, so damn close. I glared at Shikamaru, willing him to understand, but he looked exhausted and content like the rest.

There had to be more to this. After all this time, winning couldn't possibly feel like this . . . this unsatisfying, empty anger gnawing at me as the cheers became louder and louder. The weight of death was supposed to be gone after victory. It was supposed to be replaced with different, happier feelings.

There _had_ to be more. Was this really all it was? Just the same with different sounds, because death couldn't be unmade, regardless of how hard you strived, and the world would never let you forget that?

No matter where my eyes fell, everywhere I saw it: the victory, the raised fists, the exhausted grins; and below? what lay below all that? the crimson mud, the corpses, rained on by blood and water.

At my feet, the red tassel stuck in the mud, frayed at the sides. I sank to my knees, picking it up. Was that really all it meant, this dirty piece of red? The damn blood toll each Hokage paid for peace? I had always thought it was passion and the Will of Fire. Now I knew better. Everything had a cost—I had a thousand memories that told me so.

Squeezing the tassel in my hand, I looked at Shikamaru. Why wouldn't he understand? I was shaking on the ground, my hands, caked in dirt and blood, twitching as I was about to tear up. I stopped myself. I gripped my hand, trying to stop them from moving. This shouldn't happen in front of my men.

And yet even as I kept myself from breaking apart, I couldn't help but think that even Shikamaru didn't understand. Not fully, like I did now. Like Jiji, my father, and Danzō had.

I laughed. I was such a mess.

Behind me, the cheers became louder. They thought my laugh was a sign of happiness, that I was overtaken from our victory. First they chanted my name. Then they disobeyed their previous orders. _Ro-ku-daime!_ it began to sound across the field, bouncing off the mighty walls of Kumi Castle. And again: _Ro-ku-daime! _And a third time, louder, as even the last ones to notice began to follow suit: _Ro-ku-daime! Ro-ku-daime! Ro-ku-daime!_

I rose to my feet. Fū stood in the masses, her arms crossed, her teal hair specked red. Her eyes were so knowing that I couldn't help but give her a nod. She understood. She knew what I had been thinking. She had been leading all that remained of her country for over a decade. How wouldn't she know?

Fū replied with a mocking smile devoid of any sympathy. She took a shallow bow and waved, as if to invite me to continue following her on her path. Another thought wormed itself into my head. How insane had Jiji been after all those decades? What kind of mental strength had he possessed to never even show it? How often had he lain awake at night, seeing the dead? And how often had he risen out of bed the next day, enduring and greeting the world with a smile? At this moment, nothing seemed more miraculous, nothing more otherworldly. Was that the true reason for his title? For why they had called him The God of Shinobi?

But what did that make me, the pretend-Rokudaime?

* * *

The front shifted after Iwa's loss. Grass now belonged to Konoha in its entirety, and what little was left of the clans had submitted after The Battle of Kumi Castle. The kid I'd saved during Iwa' black flag operation in the mountains led the envoy to negotiate the terms of their surrender. I should've been surprised, really. For one that Lady Kikou's healing had been potent enough to get him through, even though she'd had barely a few seconds to work on him before a knife took her apart. And then also that the clan heads would cower and send their youngest instead of their most experienced.

The kid proved shy and intimidated. He told me that he'd been unconscious while his fellow clansmen mounted their ambush, and that they sent him because they thought we had a rapport. I would've liked to tell him more about knives, as I had done the last time we met, but my duty as commander was to dictate Konoha's terms. Another distasteful act, carried out for the village.

"You'll open up Grass' food storages to Fire Country," I said, going down the list in my mind. No doubt the Fire Daimyo would add a nice bonus to Konoha's war chest in return, which would already be filled by a sizable amount of money extorted from the clans and civilians of Grass. The same would happen with any iron ore won in the mountains. "You will also open up your country and your clan archives to our cartographers, historians and analytic department, while informing and placating your civilians."

A thankless job, for sure. His expression showed how little he liked the terms, but his confidence had been another casualty of the war. Konoha, so the message, would be a benevolent tyrant if her demands were met. As the messenger, however, I felt not benevolent but as though I was putting my boot on the back of a kid who had already been lying face-down in the muck.

After he accepted the terms, I led the boy back to the camp's entrance, where the rest of the clan heads had been waiting under strict supervision.

I thought about what to say before sending him over. The terms were harsh but clear. Apologizing for them would be nothing but a hollow gesture, an act to soothe my hurt conscience.

I looked the kid over. He was in over his head, a mouse who had been sent to deal with a lion. It would have been like sending my Genin-self to negotiate with the Tsuchikage.

I said, "Your people fought and lost, and nothing you could have said or done would have changed the terms today. But just by being the one at the table with me, you've proven that you got more courage in you than any of these geezers over there. Keep that courage. Become strong. Rise to the top of the clans, like Kikou did. Maybe if you do, Grass will make it through this storm. If it's you, there's hope. Good luck."

I watched him go.

On paper, Danzō's last mission to me had become a full success. I never even had to ask for more troops from the Brass.

The paper could burst into flames for all I cared.

The second part of the plan was enacted soon after. I ordered Shikamaru to stay with half our forces and fortify our position. In the meanwhile, I took the other half and went with Fū to Waterfall. Iwa's troops were in utter disarray. The news of Rōshi's and Han's defeat had destabilized all their efforts. Who could blame them? If the pillars crumbled, the tiles came down in turn. Team Seven had repaired more than one such roof in its time, back when repairing roofs had counted among the most dangerous missions given to fresh Genin.

When Fū and I entered the battlefield, our reputation running ahead of us at full tilt, whatever kind of resistance Iwa had put up made for the hills. After my fight with Rōshi and all the hardship before that, this quick sweep of Waterfall felt similar to dictating my terms to the kid. Iwa was reeling, and I was knocking around a child, nothing more.

The events of those weeks were sudden and dreamlike, much like that moment of change in Waterfall when Shikamaru and I first emerged from our days of slaughter and walked into the warm colors of a welcoming home, an orchard, a breeze of fresh conversation that had gone beyond the muted grunts of approval after yet another kill. It was like dipping into the ocean, leaving the outside world behind and yourself open to explore this new feeling of seeing a different plane altogether.

As if our victory in Grass had been the catalyst, major forces on the continent started to move. What had seemed like intractable differences between the Big Five were suddenly called into question. News from the Water-Lightning front read: the Raikage, having made no headway for three years, was finally considering to talk. Likely he didn't want to lose any more face. Lightning had always been a prideful nation, proud - most of all - of their military might. To have been stopped first by Sasuke's sacrifice, and then by Shino's strategic-minded approach must smart them quite a bit. And Kiri's forces? They'd been war-weary for half a decade now. Doubtlessly they'd come to the table as well.

And just as I had processed that one of the heaviest, most fought-over fronts was about to grind to a halt, a ceasefire not being only a pacifist's fancy anymore, another piece of news reached me from Suna. The missive read: their manpower had dwindled so far in recent years that further prolonging the war effort was out of question. Gaara, former psychopath and now reformed host of the Ichibi, was the leading voice for peace among his people.

All over the continent, the cries for an end to this bloodshed suddenly appeared. Or maybe they had always been there, drowned out by the relentless roar of war that had deafened us to all else. I couldn't bring myself to raise my hopes, though. How great would it be if war had cried itself hoarse like a huckster at the marketplace? But I had the feeling that however quick everyone was clamoring for peace right now, it would take only a single insult for the whole world to go up in flames once more. I had lived too many years in war that I could believe in much else.

It took another week until I heard from Rōshi. The envoy was a group of four Iwa-nin who appeared mighty uncomfortable at the gates, standing, as they were, ringed by my shinobi. And though the message they brought was one of peace also, I found myself glowering at them, a curse on my lips as my discipline slipped much the same way my men's did. Izuna, Miko, Subaru, Ainu, Shien, Hakumo, Shizo, Hotaru, Sawada, Tenji . . . the names and faces were clear in my mind, and for many of them I had the memory of their death as well. So many lives wasted. Young lives, too. Lives that hadn't known anything but war. Their faces haunted me as I stood face to face with Rōshi soon after, in a glade in Waterfall where just the two of us would talk. We met up in the middle, our respective guard details waiting at the line of trees, staring at the opposing force without emotion, yet taunting them just the same by flashing steel in the winter sun.

The frozen grass crunched under my boots as I came to stop before Rōshi and glared up at him. Izuna, Miko, Subaru, Ainu . . . No, I thought as the faces resurfaced once more, this wasn't the way. I had to get rid of those memories, if only for a moment. Rōshi came to broker a ceasefire. Wasn't that all I had ever wanted? With all nations having felt so intimately the death toll of war by now, a peace - however short it might turn out - was finally in reach. What cruel bastard would spit on the hopes of an entire continent? And yet, try as I might, I couldn't get rid of the faces. Rōshi's mouth moved as he laid out their terms, mainly retreating to Iwa without being hunted down like dogs - which was a way of pursuing that Fū had taken on quite vehemently. And the more he talked, the longer I looked at him, the heavier the feeling in my whole body grew: a hardening of my heart as the names kept repeating, and the thoughts kept swirling in a vortex of memories. Every syllable he spoke reminded me of what had been lost under my command. I hated him. And perhaps I hated myself more, because even though he gave the order, it had been under my watch that lives ended, and fates were sealed.

I had always thought that despite all our differences, there was a strange kind of bond between Jinchūriki. Fū had hinted at this being false, and meeting Rōshi now, able to talk with him for the first time, made hint into reality.

I let slip a grunt as he was done explaining his terms. Nothing he'd said had been outlandish.

And still, how hard it was just to say yes after all that had happened.

My jaw clenched, and Rōshi noticed. An unflinching look of hatred flared on his face, replacing for a brief moment the placid expression of equanimity. "Do not think, boy, that I hate this any less than you. If it weren't for your village, this world would be a better place by far. You think you lost much? I have a lifetime of memories to draw on when it comes to whom Konoha killed that I hold dear. Now get a grip. Think of those people behind you. I am doing the same for mine. As much as I want to rip your throat out, they are more important now."

Harsh and honest words. And yet they did nothing for me. What good was advice from the man whose face I wanted to cave in?

"As if you could even touch my throat," I snarled, feeling the red seep up into my consciousness. He was making me forget myself. His voice was calling up all the pent-up frustration and emotion I had bottled after the battle.

Then he laughed. A cruel, loud belly-laugh. "Aye, I guess you're right with that. I know when I'm beat, and while I'm sure I can still touch you, the last fight was yours. There, is that what you wanted to hear?" He gave me a curious look. "You're such a damn hothead, always looking for a fight, Uzumaki. It's what makes you a fool. But a dangerous one, I give you that. You remind me a fair bit of myself when I was young. But this isn't the time for battling it out, so cool off, lad, and listen to what I'm saying. We've got a chance here to do right by our men, however much we hate it in person."

"I'm nothing like you."

"Sure," he said, shrugging.

My mind was reaching for ways to lash out. I had accepted his rationale, and slowly but surely also the fact that many more faces would be added to the list if I kept on like this. And yet I was searching for how I could place a barb, feeling for the first time a desire to hurt someone well up inside me, a desire to make him feel the same as I did. How dare he laugh and declare us equals when Iwa had killed so many, had taken so damn much. How . . .

The diary, it came to me. Kurotsuchi's writing. The woman he had held dear like a daughter. My thoughts became cold, calculating. Rōshi needed this talk to succeed since Iwa's forces were almost entirely wiped out in this region. I could tell him everything. That I had the diary and would keep it. That I knew Kakashi was the one to kill her. That I had been Kakashi's student. Let him gnaw on that. Let him feel the need to hold himself back from attacking me for the sake of his men - the same argument he had brought forth. As the thread of vindictiveness unwound itself in my mind, my hand twitched to the breast pocket of my vest. It would be so easy. Rōshi had no way to respond. If he attacked I would beat him into the ground, and all his men with him.

And yet, at the crucial moment, my hand stopped. What the hell was I doing? Weren't we hating each other enough already? Wasn't this exactly the kind of thing Fū and Rōshi would do themselves to gain an advantage? I stared at my hand, ignoring Rōshi's alert expression, stared at it and wondered how it would feel to run my fingers through Hinata's hair, to have Chie's stubby hand close around them. Around what? The hands of a killer? That was a given. But around the hands of someone who willingly, almost gleefully, inflicted pain when there was another way? The thought that this was what command had made me startled me, made my heart beat at a savage pace, and heat rise to my face. Had Rōshi been right? Were we that similar? Would I that easily let myself become the type of man whom I had always despised?

No. I wouldn't become him. I would . . . I didn't know what I would. All I could think of was to stay as far away from being like him as possible. However hard it was, however difficult, if all my hatred told me to hurt him as much as I could, I'd do the opposite. That was the clearest path away from where I'd been going.

I took a deep breath, pushed against the faces, the names, the memories of useless death, and kept in mind my daughter and wife, my friends, those who were still among the living. Then I opened my pocket, fished out the diary, and lobbed it over to Rōshi.

"Here, take it. I think this belongs to you."

"You . . . how did you-"

"Our first fight," I said. "I accept your terms of surrender, Rōshi. Gather your men and go back to Iwa. You have a week."

He was still staring at the diary, muttering Kurotsuchi's name under his breath, his thumb brushing across the scratched leather cover with enough care to almost make him seem gentle in nature.

"I . . ." he began, but I cut him off immediately.

"I don't want to hear it. Get out of Waterfall before I start to regret my decision."

He looked lost a second longer, then pocketed the book and nodded. "I'll go then. And I'll pray that we won't meet again, lad." With those words he leapt back to his men.

Shikamaru soon joined me in the middle of the glade. "That book," he said. "Was that . . ."

"It was."

Shikamaru grunted. "You think it wise to give it back to him?"

I looked at him. There was no accusation in his face, only curiosity. I shrugged. "From all the ideas I had this afternoon, this might've been the wisest, to be honest. Come, let's go back. I've had enough of this place."

And while we walked, I couldn't shake the feeling that today, more than during our assassinations in Waterfall even, I had brushed up against evil. That for a second I had been snared, had my mind warped by loss, war, and command to such a degree that I saw myself become what I had sworn to fight. And I was glad, more than I could put into words, that I had chosen another path. That the memory of Hinata and Chie had been there to break me out of it. Without them . . . I couldn't comprehend what I might've done without them.

* * *

The news of the ceasefire electrified the troops. There were those who clamored for more blood, now that the tides had turned in our favor. There would always be people like that, though. The Danzōs of the world, whether Genin, Chūnin or Jōnin, would always have their eyes on further conquest. The majority, however, was glad that for the first time in over a decade they collectively shared a moment where not a single major power was actively at war. A great moment, a novel one most of all, and I was sure historians would record it as such, perhaps even with Shikamaru's and my efforts in Grass described as the driving force.

I felt little in the way of heroism, though. When I gave a speech to my men, assuring them that finally all our sacrifices were justified, I couldn't help but mentally compare myself to a street magician who captured the attention of every onlooker with a wave of her left, while hiding the real truth with a slight of hand on the other side. "They died honorably, and we have done our part to make sure their deaths weren't in vain," I told them. But honor was an expensive thing, I found. And while I talked of lofty values, I tallied in my mind what their deaths had ultimately brought Konoha. A plot of land; corn, rice and lentils; a few maps and maybe a technique or two: simple and material things that the village had bought at a ridiculous cost. And that in a war the origin of which had long been resolved.

Before long, Fū and I found ourselves in front of the waterfall in the middle of Taki where everything had started, and where we had first met all those years ago. Winter came far earlier in northern Waterfall than in Fire Country, and light frost coated the dead trees around us. The water at the edge of the waterfall was beginning to freeze. It was early snow, dusting the ruins of her village that lay scattered at her feet, and in two months it would reach Konoha, too, lending the village that special flair of evergreen trees turned white.

I pulled my cloak tight around me as Fū was surveying the damage, her eyes briefly lit with a nostalgic fire. I suppose it was like coming home for her.

Fū spun around on her heel. "You did it, Chief," she said with that sickening, saccharine smile. "I'm still alive. You're still alive. Iwa's gone, and you got us here. The world's at peace. I didn't think you had it in you. I really didn't. Oh, how you've proven me wrong on that account."

She sauntered closer. "That guarded look . . . You hurt me with your mistrust, Chief. I've done what you said, haven't I? So have my men. Dutifully and with a proper salute. Do you want me to call you Rokudaime, too? Will that make you open up again?"

"Are you getting at something with that rant, Fū?"

"Of course I am! I'd much rather see your pretty smile again. I like it much more than the tears you almost showed me after the battle. You know which smile I mean. I remember it so, so clearly . . . It was sweet and innocent. It showed . . . You know, I think it showed there was still some good in the world. That's necessary, don't you think? To keep your hope for a better future, for a life without suffering."

I kept my face blank, even though nothing but pity welled up inside me at the sight of her. She was trying her hardest to lash out, to get out all the hatred at herself and the world that was piling up inside her. I had felt the same during my meeting with Rōshi. And if I had suffered this much for being unable to save my people, how hard must it have been for Fū, who had been tricked into betraying hers?

"Why is it gone though?" she asked. "It was so cheerful. Don't you have reasons to cheer right now? Victory after victory—two countries at once! You must be a hero to your people. Why else would they call you Rokudaime?"

She was so close I felt her warm breath on my face. Her eyes were hard and spiteful.

I lifted my chin and looked right back. If Jiraiya could see us now, it would break his heart: two children he had once watched competing for the biggest smile and who could spit watermelon seeds the farthest. We had turned into fine and proper adults.

"You have become a good shinobi, Chief."

"You, too, Fū. Far too good, maybe. You know, I really hope things will work out for you, now that you're back here and Iwa is gone."

She gave a look of faux-delight. "Oh how you honor me!" Then the hilarity slid away. Her face returned to being a mask of granite. "It's so easy to be concerned now that everything is peachy, isn't it? But where was this concern when you decided to give those maps to Iwa, Chief? I didn't see much of it, then."

I sighed. She was still looking for a way to place her barb. In a strange way I was hoping for her to come to the same realization I'd had during my talk with Rōshi. A juvenile hope, perhaps, but one I couldn't get rid of that easily. Seeing what the war had made of her, what it had almost made of me . . . I didn't have it in me anymore to summon the cold, Danzō-like persona that had served me these past months. Honestly, however necessary it had been, I never wanted to assume it again.

"Not my proudest moment," I said. "And I'm sorry that it came to it. All I can do right now is hope that the war will stay away long enough for nothing of the sort to ever happen again. You know, about that smile . . . I don't know if I'll ever be able to smile like that again. We both know what this place has made of us. But I don't think it's too late to get a grip on things. Maybe with some time things will get better. We'll get better."

For a second her mouth curved up as if she wanted to laugh in my face. Then there was a spark, a sudden disfiguration of her expression. She had finally realized that I was being honest, or at least as honest as I could manage. That this wasn't a facade to keep control of her, or mock her. "Oh no," she said. "No, no, no. That's not how it works, Chief. That's not how it works at all. You don't get to go back to being your old self. Not after all the work I've put into you. You don't have the luxury of becoming a whiny kid again. No one has. Not you, not I! You hear me? No one!" She was talking herself into rage, her words slurring and her cheeks growing hot-red. "Nononono. How? Who gave you that silly, ridiculous idea that it was this easy to change back, huh? Who? WHO?"

Her eyes had grown wide as she was trying and failing to get a grip on herself. My sentiment had given the chains around her insanity a mighty tug. "No, Naruto, listen, this is how it's going to be. You'll stay as you are. You'll have all your fun little memories of this war, all the thoughts and broken voices, and the cries for help, all the good, juicy stuff that never leaves, not even at night. And you'll damn well carry it all, for the rest of your life. Got it? That's how it is. That's how everything is! Otherwise, things would be . . . they'd be . . ."

She trailed off. Another laugh escaped her, but this time it seemed more helpless than sharp, more a release of frustration and bottled emotions than the edge of a broken kunai. Before she totally lost it, she went past me and away, leaving me standing there in the ruins of Taki. But I had heard what she had whispered alright, and it struck me harder than any punch she could've thrown.

_It would be unfair . . ._

That was the last time I saw Fū. After our talk she vanished from the face of the world, and even though I later asked Jiraiya to keep an ear to the ground, nothing ever came of it. Her helpless laugh, though, and the realization what circumstance had made of her, would follow me to the day I die.

* * *

End of Chapter


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: **Everything belongs to Masashi Kishimoto.

* * *

**Rokudaime**

Chapter 11

* * *

Icy rain came at the world in large sheets. Two days ago I had received the missive to return to Konoha. A fine, black-threaded document with the signatures of very important people. When the messenger gave it to me, I felt curiously empty. I had expected it much earlier, to be honest. In any case, it was time to pay my dues, and I took the quickest route from northern Waterfall to Konoha, stopping only once to have a five minute chat with a border patrol.

I had long ago taken off the tassels, but the Chūnin on patrol were casting glances at my shoulders as if they expected them to appear from thin air at any second. I had no idea who they were, but while they briefed me about the happenings on the border, I detected a strange glint in their eyes, and a quality in their voices that put me in the mind of my own men back in Grass. Uncomfortably, I adjusted my cloak, wished them a nice patrol, and hurried on. I had come to expect that kind of hero worship from my own soldiers, given that they had forced me to become used to it. But people I had never seen before?

Which begged the question of what awaited me in Konoha. Would they strip me of command and rank? Would they put me into jail? Halfway through the journey I resigned myself to having no answers, and emptied out my mind. Maybe I could come to enjoy the freezing rain and sleet, and the cold wind plastering my wet hair to my forehead. Hard work, but it had to beat all the worrying.

Half a day before reaching Konoha, I found myself a new travel companion in Shikamaru, who was leaping next to me, looking miserable. He hadn't yet found any joy in the rain, even though it was warmer now. Come to think of it, neither had I, although I had been trying for a solid few hours.

"Brass called you too, huh?" I asked.

"Two days ago. I hate this rain."

"It'll only get colder from now on." After a while I added, "Maybe they'll invite us to ramen and pat our backs. How likely you think that is?"

He craned his neck to look back at me. "Not at all."

I sighed. "I'd still like for it to happen."

"They're not going to make it that easy for us. But I suppose it's a nice idea to entertain ourselves with. It beats the alternatives I'm going through in my mind."

"I thought so, too. Then again, we did accomplish a lot, didn't we? Iwa's gone, everyone else is willing to talk . . . How bad can it really be?"

"You made yourself the Rokudaime," he said.

"I guess that's true . . ."

Before long Konoha was close enough that I counted minutes instead of hours. I had gotten an idea while leaping branches, and the nearer the village came, the more that idea grew to be an actual proposal. I jumped off the branch and landed on the wet grass with a slick sound. Rain drumming on my face, I stared up at Shikamaru. He didn't look pleased by stopping. Over the pattering I couldn't hear him say troublesome, but I was sure his lips had moved.

Grumbling, he joined me on the ground. "What's up? I want to get home and out of this rain."

"Me too."

"So why are we stopping then?"

"I'm not going straight to the Brass. It's ridiculous. I haven't seen my family for months now. I'll not make war the first thing I do once I'm back in the village. Screw that. I'm heading home first."

"They won't like that."

"What are they going to do? Write me up for insubordination?"

Shikamaru actually found some humor in that. "Fair enough."

It was remarkable how making myself the Rokudaime had been so big a break from all the rules that Shikamaru had stopped sweating the small stuff, and at times even found it amusing now.

Then he said, "It'll still be troublesome, though. It always is with you. Damn, I wish Asuma was still here. He always knew what to do in a situation like this."

"Kakashi, too," I said.

Our Jōnin instructors had always seemed so wise and knowledgeable. Had they felt like we did now, and just not shown it? I liked to think so. That meant we could make it if we kept a cool head, or at least tried to.

"We have to find a way past the guards and over the wall," Shikamaru said. "They'll likely have orders to bring you in to the council immediately."

"Smuggling me through the gate is a no go. Kiba had guard duty last time I was here. If he still does, he'll smell me a mile away. We can't fool his nose."

"I guess not. Is there a way the toads can help?"

I shook my head and fixed my eyes on the tree behind Shikamaru. A summon's trust wasn't broken easily. The toad tattoo had faded into an indistinct gray a few days after Gamageko had fulfilled his delivery mission. There had been no warning, no talk, no nothing. No matter how much chakra I used, I couldn't even summon a tadpole right now. That I knew all this was proof I hadn't be stricken fully from the contract, that some connection still existed, but I had been put on notice. Until I traveled to Mount Myōboku—without the help of any toad—and pleaded my case in person, I wouldn't be able to make any of this better.

Shikamaru, of course, noticed that something was up. He didn't bring it up. He was just that damn good of a friend.

His brow was furrowed in thought, though. The rain made him look pissed.

Then he said, "It actually doesn't matter. The moment you set foot into Konoha, Jiraiya and Tsunade will be able to sense and pinpoint you anyway. They'll know if you stop at your home first—I don't think they'll begrudge you that. The only issue is getting you past the gate. And if Kiba is there, we'll let him in on it. The day an Inuzuka becomes a jobsworth is the day Konoha falls."

I hummed. "Good point."

Decision made, we traveled on. Finally I'd be able to see Hinata and Chie again. I had left Konoha in a hurry, and without resolving anything. I returned with more problems than before. And yet, at the thought of having Hinata back in my arms and hearing Chie's gurgling, I couldn't help but smile, weak though it was.

Kiba was still heading the guard detail at the gate. If they didn't put me into jail, I'd have to hear that story over a few cups. It was sure to be some tale. You didn't put an Inuzuka on guard duty for nothing. It was the worst kind of punishment you could visit on a clan that always lusted for action and violence. He really must have fucked up in some hilarious and terrible way.

I traveled as a kunai in Shikamaru's pocket. Akamaru, that overgrown ball of fur, barked the moment we came into sight of the gate. Kiba, to his credit, said nothing at first. Under the eyes of a dozen other shinobi, he exchanged words with Shikamaru, who used our old Academy speaking pattern, certain phrases that would trigger Kiba's memory. We had used that kind of speech all the time to plan out pranks while in earshot of our teachers. Having been heard and still getting away with it was one of the greatest excitements of that time.

Kiba paused. Then he said, almost defeated, "Sure, go in," and added quieter, so that only we heard, "You bastards owe me big time."

Shikamaru gripped his forearm. "Thanks. It's good to see you."

"Same." Louder, Kiba said, "They want to see you up at the tower. I'll make a report that you came through, so you best swing by soon. They're anxious to hear from you."

"I'll make my way there."

Once we were out of sight and earshot, Shikamaru sidestepped into an alley. I returned to my prior form, massaging my neck. "Thanks," I said. "Are you going straight to the tower?"

"I think I will. The sooner I get this over with, the better."

"You'll see your father there, huh? Think that'll make it easier for you?"

"Doubtful. He'll either recuse himself entirely or say nothing."

That sounded about right. Naras had earned themselves a reputation as dependable advisors. They didn't get there by putting their personal business before that of the village.

"What will you tell them?"

"The truth," Shikamaru said with a shrug and a half-smile. "I have absolutely no idea what happened when they made you their Hokage, but it happened. I'll call it the will of the people. Technically the Will of Fire."

"I'm sure that will sway them," a third voice said next to us. "They're an impressionable bunch. A good story ought to get them fired up. I know it keeps my blood pumping."

Jiraiya stood leaning against a lamppost, arms crossed.

"Jiraiya-sama," Shikamaru said, glancing at me.

"Ah, don't be so stiff, you two. You're heroes around here."

"Are we, though?" I asked.

"That depends on whom you ask," Jiraiya said. "Certainly not for the Aburame. But that's to be expected, isn't it? The fact is that with your victory in Grass and Waterfall you became conqueror and liberator rolled into one. Not too bad for half a year of work."

His relaxed way of speaking set me on edge. It was too languid by far.

Jiraiya pushed himself away from the lamppost and gave us a big grin, patting Shikamaru's shoulder. "You should be proud. I'm sure your father will be, too. You were going to make your report, right? Better not let them wait. Don't worry, you can leave out Naruto being here for now. I won't tell if you don't."

Shikamaru tensed, and actually held his ground in the face of Jiraiya's order, looking first to me for how to act. I nodded and reached him my hand, and soon we were gripping each others' forearms. "Whatever these old farts decide to do with me, I would've wanted no one but you at my side these years, Shikamaru. You were everything a commander and a friend could wish for."

He gave me an uncertain grin. "Troublesome. Keep the speeches for the Brass. But . . . for what it's worth: I would've hated to serve under anyone else."

Then he bowed out with a quick goodbye to Jiraiya and made for the Hokage Tower to give his report.

Once he was gone, Jiraiya's expression turned mute, and we stared each other down.

I broke first. I had never played games with him. I wouldn't start now. "He's got nothing to do with this. I was the one to accept the call when they chanted Rokudaime. He couldn't have stopped me even had he wanted to."

"It must've been a great party," Jiraiya said. "I wish I had been there."

"Shouldn't you be angry?"

Jiraiya waved my concern away. "There's no better way to my mind." He snorted. "Honestly, you are exactly what Danzō was looking for. Young, strong, victorious, and so loved by the people serving you that they actually made you their Rokudaime without ever consulting the village. The stories that came our way these past weeks were nothing short of miraculous. And given that everyone is suddenly speaking of peace, your name and your accomplishments have naturally become entangled with that cry. If he were still alive, Danzō would throw the damn hat at you—or strangle you for causing peace, but that's another matter altogether. And, between us, throwing the hat . . . that's what they'll do once you set foot into that tower, however reluctant some might feel about it. I thought it only fair to give you a warning."

I was floored. With a few words he had upended all the thoughts in my head about toughing out my punishment. I had counted on a lot of things, but not on them making my false ascension official. "What about Shino?"

Jiraiya shrugged. "Strong and dependable. A good strategic mind, for sure. Technically a shoe-in for the position. Reports indicate his combat skills have also increased by leaps and bounds. Apparently he managed to hold B to a standstill until his forces could retreat to a safer location. That's no small feat, and probably played a big part in A being willing to talk it out now."

"But?"

"He lacks charisma. His troops fight and win, but they're not shouting his name. I'm sure that if I were to ask any of your shinobi, they'd willingly run into a knife for you. They would hardly do that for him. We had our reservations before, of course—Aburame aren't exactly known for their ferocious outbursts of charisma—but we thought it best to give him an opportunity, or at least the semblance of one. His clan is a vital part of Konoha. It always pays off to play nice with them. But, truthfully, he never had much of a chance at the Hat—not with you in the ring anyway."

They had known Shino was desperate for a way to prove himself, and had found something to placate him, then. The blunt way Jiraiya phrased such sensitive information, initiating me into village secrets, really brought home that I apparently already was the Hokage to the Brass.

And it reeked so much of favoritism that I wanted to smack Jiraiya and everyone else from that band of geezers in the head. For all our talk of being rivals before my command started, Shino and I were still friends. I had no doubt that his drive to become Hokage was as ferocious as that of my youth after it had been woken. They were making a fool out of him, even though his contribution to the current state of peace was no less than mine. The stink of politics was all around this issue, and them giving him false promises only days after his father had died for the village made my blood boil. Rice, lentils, maps . . . people lost their damn lives for this useless stuff, and then they didn't even have the guts to be honest to those who endured loss after loss for their sake?

Jiraiya was standing relaxed, but there was a certain way to it that made me wary, as if he tried too hard to be calm when his eyes told me otherwise. Had he seen how much the issue with Shino bothered me?

No. That wasn't it. And frankly, I wouldn't dance around it any longer. I was pissed enough that my voice grew harsher when I asked, "What's your problem, then?"

In response he drove his knuckles at my face. Had he been an enemy I would have retaliated. As things stood, I deflected the punch to the side. There had been a lot of power in that strike, enough to break a nose and send me tumbling into the wall had it hit.

"That one was supposed to be from Bunta," he said, pulling back and looking at his fist in wonder for a short moment. Then he shrugged. "Gamakichi will deliver his own when the time comes. Damn, kiddo, I didn't give you the contract so you could fuck them over. I almost had a heart attack when Pa was about to cross out your name. Count yourself lucky that there's still a lot of love going around for you on Mount Myōboku. When Gamageko told them you looked horrible and done with life they took pity on you. You'll still have a bitch of a penitent walk ahead of you, though. That was one hell of a stunt you pulled. Honestly, you should've tanked that punch."

I grunted. I hated remembering the haze through which Shikamaru and I had been wading at the time. Fū's crazy eyes, my bloodstained hands, corpses looking up at me: I had these pictures in my head all the time now, like bad paintings in the attic.

I used laughter to drape them with whenever I could, but it only took a word for the fabric to slip. A single thought, a memory revealed, and I'd be right back in the gray, watching again, distant and uncaring, how Shikamaru created a tree of shadow and death. How Iwa-nin dangled from its branches like rotten fruit, twitching and struggling in the air before every muscle went slack. And again there'd be that switch in Shikamaru's face—that moment when terror broke through his mute expression after he realized what kind of technique he had come up with in that dark time.

What kind of friend let something like that happen? Damn. Now I could also see Shino's face, and how it'd look if ever he learned what Jiraiya had told me earlier.

"What happened with Gamageko is my fault," I said, "and I'll let Bunta and Gamakichi slap me around if they really want to. But you can be damn sure I won't take a punch from a guy who just told me that he knowingly betrayed a friend of mine by making false promises. That's what cheap hucksters do, Jiraiya. Not the most respected group of people in our village."

"Jiraiya now instead of pervert, huh. Look, I know the Aburame thing wasn't a good move." Jiraiya sighed. "I told them that, but they were adamant about it. It's an ugly thing, but sometimes one that has to be done. Once you take the hat you can't avoid making decisions like that." He ran a hand through his hair as he saw the protest on my lips. "I'm not about to get into an argument here, kiddo. I agree that it was in bad taste, but you'll probably see the need for hard decisions like that yourself soon enough."

Seeing that my glare wasn't lessening, he shrugged. "Be at the tower around noon tomorrow. They'll want your report. It might be a good time to get used to your new responsibilities, even if the official ceremony is still a few days off."

A few words, a wave of his hand, then Jiraiya vanished in a swirl of leaves, leaving me alone in the empty alley.

* * *

I stood in the hallway in front of our apartment, my hand hovering over the doorknob. How much had changed since I had gone away? Had the letter reached Hinata? Was I now a monster? Was she still the same, or had she become bitter? And would we continue where we had left off, awkward and tense, only Chie there to hold us together?

I was working up the resolve to enter, when a rustling of paper bags came from the stairs, startling me. I swiveled around, but before I could get a single word in Hinata was already in front of me, pulling me down to her face. Behind her lay two bags on the floor, an apple rolling down the hallway. I closed my eyes and leaned into the kiss.

I had forgotten how much I missed her warmth, forgot it every time I was away on duty to then discover it again.

When we broke the kiss, I saw that she was crying. I thumbed away her tears, then circled my arms around her, pressing her to my chest. It felt as if we stood like this for hours before one of us began to talk. I couldn't say who started, or what the first words were. All I knew was that there had been her voice. Then we were inside, groceries forgotten on the floor, the door falling shut behind us, and neither she nor I could stop speaking.

"You're back," she said.

"I am."

"It's been so-"

"I've really-"

We looked at each other, stopped talking, smiled. We gestured for each other to continue.

"How-"

"What-"

Again we stopped. I couldn't hold it in anymore. A laugh rumbled in my belly, breaking out in a loud chortle. Gods, I had missed her. And after only a second I felt so stupidly in love with her, even though none of us could get out a single sentence. My whole body was vibrating, and I felt red in the face and shy as though this was our first date all over again.

When she opened her mouth to make another attempt, I leaned down, quick as quick could be, capturing her lips. She leaned in, standing on her toes. Then, with surprising strength, she pushed me back through the living room, step by step, and onto the sofa before sitting down astride of me.

"Where's Chie?" I asked as she slid the vest off me.

"She's with my father."

Her hands clawed into the sides of my shirt, and I lifted my arms obediently as she pulled it over my head. "How long?"

"Long enough."

Her voice had grown heavy, and those two words had an immediate effect on me. All my thoughts went out the window as she started grinding against me, part of her face veiled by hair, the smell of perfume intoxicating, smooth skin on rough skin as her top hit the floor and my hands went on their own adventure. She kissed me again, then bit my lip hard enough to draw blood, before pulling back with a look balancing on a knife's edge between innocent and devilish. She wanted it like that, eh? I'd oblige. I grunted, stood carrying her in my arms, walked to the bedroom, threw her onto the bed. My hands reached for her pants, tearing them while getting them off of her. That look was driving me wild. There'd be none of the sweet lovemaking. Not now at least. The first time after all these months would be a searing flame burning both of us, with bites and nails and grunts and cries. We'd been forced apart for far too long, and what happened next would be primal.

. . . It took two hours to drive us both into exhaustion, with some recovery time thrown in for good measure. In the late afternoon we lay covered in sweat on our bed, her head on my shoulder, as we stared at the unmoving ceiling fan above.

"We've got to clean the apartment," she said.

"After that? Yeah."

"You ripped my pants."

"Not sorry for that one."

"What if I told you they were my favorites?"

I snorted. "Then I'd say they made you look incredibly sexy. And I'd probably buy you a new pair just like them."

"Well, they were my favorites."

A chuckle was thrumming in my chest. It was so easy to talk to her, and so very different. These past months, every word spoken had been with a goal in mind. With a purpose of war. To lead, to kill, to win. I pressed her closer to me, kissing the top of her hair as the memories of Grass and Waterfall threatened to resurface. They had been held at bay for two hours now, the longest time I'd gone without them. But I couldn't get rid of them, not entirely. Fū was right in that regard.

"You're frowning," Hinata said looking up at me, her hand on my chest.

"I guess I am," I said. "Jiraiya talked to me before I got here. They want to make me their Rokudaime for real."

She knew me too well by now to break out into cheering. Had that been the mood I was in, she would've noticed much earlier. "You did a good job in Grass," she said instead. I could see that her shinobi mind was trying to piece various information together. "Do you think the ceasefire will hold?"

"Right now? Probably. For how long is hard to say, though. Then again, we've run out of men and will, Hinata. At every damn border. And isn't that something for the history books, eh? The Big Five bashed their heads bloody for so long that there's almost no one left standing in the rubble on all sides."

"It must've been difficult," she said.

"It was," I murmured. "It . . . I . . ." Speech left me as the memories came back full force. The faces, the orders I had given, the names and the reek of death surrounding them, the speeches, the smiles lost, the damn children that had turned into machines of war at my command; Fū's laugh that was a cry for help louder than any human could scream; Lady Kikou, lying in a puddle of blood, a kid in her arms; the hatred of one nation, and the pain of another after I put a map of caves into the arms of an unconscious man; Kurotsuchi and her diary; Rōshi, that red-bearded beast who had haunted my dreams, and whose face full of hatred had later urged me to think of my men instead of my own revenge; Shikamaru, who was my closest friend and had become a monster so that I would not have to walk this desolate path alone . . . one by the other, quicker than I could get a grip on them, the images welled up, pictures of red and white tassels, of Subaru's torn body, of innocence lost and little gained in turn, of lentils, peas and rice, of memories pushed down, and memories bottled until it felt I had been close to bursting apart . . .

Before I knew what was happening, I was sobbing into Hinata's shoulder, curling up against her as I let tears flow for the first time in what felt like forever. She was comforting me as you would a child, but every word brought another swell of memories, another deluge of things I had tried to keep a lid on since starting the campaign.

"Whatever you do," Hinata whispered, stroking my hair, "whatever you decide . . . I'll be here for you, Naruto. Chie as well. We'll both be here. You're not alone. You'll never be alone again. We love you. More than you can imagine."

I didn't know how long she held me, or how long she spoke to me, but eventually, completely spent, I fell asleep in her arms. When I woke it was already dark outside. The bed next to me was empty, and from the living room came Hinata's soft voice. I sat up, still naked, wiping at my eyes. If only for one afternoon, I had let myself go. Utterly. And there was no other person in the world who had such power over me but her.

After slipping into some clothes, I walked into the living room. I had butterflies in my stomach at the thought of seeing my daughter again. Chie was lying on the carpet, her blond fuzz as prominent as ever. Truthfully, she wore that hair color better than me.

Hinata came over with a glass of water. "Here," she said. "Father brought her over half an hour ago. She seems to have exhausted him quite a bit."

I guzzled down the water, never taking my eyes off Chie, who in turn was staring at Hinata with the cutest expression.

"If she's half of you and half of me, I can believe that."

As if to interject herself into the conversation, Chie wiggled on the carpet, before suddenly saying, "Mama!"

The glass almost slipped out of my hand. "She can talk!"

"She can," Hinata said with a laugh. "She started saying that three weeks ago."

"No, Hinata, you don't understand . . . She can talk! Not just, like, baby babbling, but actually saying something with meaning." I crouched in front of Chie, smiling. "Say it again, Tiny, will you? That's amazing!"

It really was a miracle. As far as I was concerned, my daughter was already a prodigy. But Chie didn't repeat the word that night. Rather, she edged away as best she could, her face scrunching up, her eyes zooming around, almost as if looking for help from Hinata.

It hit me, then, as Chie began to wail. Did she even know who I was? I had spent her first three days with her, and then nothing. Was I even her father at this point, or was I some undetermined man standing in her mama's living room?

Hinata hugged me from the side before moving to pick up Chie. "Give it time, Naruto. She'll remember soon enough."

I nodded wordlessly.

Time . . . If only it were that easy.

* * *

That same day, after I had kissed Hinata goodnight and waited for Chie to be asleep so I could do the same to her without rejection, I made my way to the Hokage Monument to sit on my father's head. A lot had happened today, and it was here that I had learned how to truly think through my problems. Back then, nothing had given me more determination than imagining myself being my father, and wondering how I would face the challenges ahead of me.

Tonight it wasn't working.

If only for a moment, I had seen the world through my father's eyes. There was nobility to it, sure enough. Few things could beat that surge of pride when they had chanted my name, or the respect when they saluted, bumping their fists against their vests. It was the stuff my dreams had been made of for so long, I couldn't remember a thought I'd had more often in my childhood.

Yet I had also felt my mind tear apart under the strain. To minimize loss, I had put the village before my sanity. It worked, to some extent. Then, however, I learned that this alone wasn't enough. Now I had to put the village before my values, too. For victory I lied and put a country to the torch. I became a hard and brutal man, because that was what a commander had to be. He needn't have his sword unsheathed all the time, but he better have a sword at all. It just so happened that I forged my blade by betraying allies, both man and summon alike. If a younger me were looking at what I had become, he'd sucker punch me and then decorate my home in every color of the rainbow. But a younger me didn't know, hadn't experienced, couldn't tell what being a leader meant—what the red and white of the Hat stood for. His views of glory were just as flawed. He was too naive, whereas I had grown painfully cynic.

I sat for hours on the head, my thoughts circling as night passed me by. Old dreams were struggling against new insights, and always in the back of my head was that voice telling me that my daughter had forgotten me, that she had learned to talk and I hadn't been there for it. The voice that told me I had never been happier than in those moments I shared with Hinata. The voice that screamed "Look at Fū! Look at what happened to her." Fū, that crazy, broken woman—a shell of who she'd been—driven to the edge by loss and circumstance, made hard and bitter, yet oh so brittle, by taking command. Fū, whose last words to me kept ringing in my head, loud and clear like a bell.

_It would be unfair . . ._

Eventually the horizon was growing pink in the east. The sun would be up soon. The head of the Yondaime had always given me courage, even before I found out who he was. He had been a great man, maybe the greatest to ever live. His sacrifice glowed so bright that it was seen throughout history—the embodiment of The Will of Fire. But the brighter the light, the longer the shadow. His priorities had been made clear at the day of my birth.

As the sun came around, I stretched my arms and legs, then leapt down onto the trees and from there toward the houses. I paused on a water tank peeking out just above the rooftops, and turned to look back at the monument. My father gazed at the village with hard eyes. They were protective, passionate, cruel. Around him, his fellow Hokage did the same. In their love and duty for Konoha they had transcended themselves. They had given up who they were to become the village, with all the good and bad that entailed. Ultimately, that was the price to pay for being immortalized in stone.

* * *

"Uzumaki Naruto," Koharu said from behind the long table at which the council sat. She let my name linger in the air, as if it had more potency that way. Next to her, Homura was still going strong, too.

I stood before this honored body, my face schooled, my posture rigid. I wouldn't be able to relax until I was sure nothing bad came of the red and white tassels that would impact my men. I also avoided looking at the gallery of portraits hanging at the wall above the council's heads. From the first to the fifth, they all made me feel guilty just by standing close to them.

A lighter clicked. Smoke filled the room. They hadn't opened any window, and it wasn't Shikaku's first cigarette either. He smoked the same brand as Shikamaru.

Shikaku cleared his throat. "You did good," he said, and you could've paved a road with the amount of tar coating his voice. "The means were fairly unconventional, but from what we understand you managed to salvage a horrible situation, giving us not one but two victories instead."

"Indeed," said Homura. "In doing so, you went above and beyond what Danzō envisioned when he sent you to Grass. We do not take the issue of your self-bestowed title lightly, but such results are hard to argue with. Furthermore, the circumstances surrounding you, as Shikaku's son informed us, gave you little choice."

"Your expression tells me that you don't like it all that much," I said to him.

Homura's nose wrinkled. "It was outside regular procedure. An insolent thing to do. But . . . I suppose there is no going back now. The men and women under your command have accepted you. And your name has garnered enough recognition that it would not seem a foolish move on Konoha's part were you to become our Rokudaime."

"Psht," Jiraiya said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "He's what Danzō would've wanted. Stop being contrarian for the sake of it."

Homura and Koharu shot him a glowering look that he ignored with practiced ease.

The ANBU Commander, sitting at the far right of the table, voice distorted, mask blank, said, "My men have confirmed that he fought Rōshi several times. There should be no doubt about his suitability strength-wise."

Tsunade, sitting next to Jiraiya, nodded. "I don't think there was any doubt about that."

With her, the council was complete: the two remaining elders, the two remaining Sannin, the leader of ANBU, and Shikaku as the overall commander of the normal shinobi forces. On a small desk at the edge of the room lay, neatly folded, a set of red and white robes, the Hat placed pristinely on top of it.

Koharu, albeit reluctantly, said, "I am sure you have already surmised, or been made aware of, that your command was as much a placement of faith in your abilities as a shinobi, as it was a test to see whether you had the courage, smarts and fortitude to become a leader of men." Koharu's voice carried for her age. She was a long-winded old lady, but the kind you listened to out of instinct. "Both objectives—strength and character—you have reached and surpassed, as have the great leaders that are smiling upon you in this very room."

I restrained myself from rolling my eyes at her wide gesture toward the portraits. The Hokage behind her looked stern and foreboding, daring anyone to challenge them over their village. The painter had captured their essence well. They were great, sure enough, but they weren't smiling.

She went on, "A Jinchūriki, as you know best, is an inconceivable force to fight, even without their Bijū unleashed. To do so three times while saving the lives of dozens of comrades and upholding the Tenmen Treaty is no mean feat. Neither is it a trivial matter to reach a mission objective without asking for reinforcements. Craftiness, the ability to find ways within your means . . . those are cherished values. They are what make a shinobi into a leader. The list, Uzumaki Naruto, of your achievements in the past months is long. I will not bore you further with details that you are already well aware of yourself. Suffice it to say that you have amply proven your strength of body and mind to this council."

"As has Shino," I said. "Who has fought Killer B to a standstill, advanced the Water-Lightning front, brought A to the table, and from the reports never requested reinforcements either."

The elders' expressions hardened. Disbelief that I had brought it up after all was stenciled onto Jiraiya's face.

"I'll make this quick," Shikaku cut in. "Shino has done a great job, but as I'm sure the fact that you're standing here and not him has hinted at already, we're intent on making you the Rokudaime—this time officially."

I looked at them, letting the honored council stew in silence for a moment.

Jiraiya couldn't hold it in much longer. "What are you waiting for, kiddo? You made it! You're in!"

I was, or at least I would be if I took the Hat.

I bowed. "I'm grateful that you've considered me for the position," I said. "But I am not ready to be the Rokudaime." As I spoke, my words held the weight of all my memories, of all the things I'd sobbed into Hinata's arms just yesterday, of what it meant to lead, would mean still for me and my family, of what not only command but being a shinobi had made me miss. "I won't take the Hat, I'm sorry."

Jiraiya jumped to his feet so quick, the chair crashed down behind him. "Come now, kiddo, don't do this. It's been your dream for so long. The people love you. They're finally recognizing you! Isn't that what you always wanted?"

I gave him a sad smile. "It was, yeah." Back when I hadn't yet understood that I could live without their recognition as long as I could be with the people closest to me. There were so many things to do with Chie, so many milestones yet to witness, and I wouldn't miss a single one of them. Never again. That was a promise.

"But you . . . your father . . ."

"We are different. He was a great man, I'm sure. But I can't be the same as him. And I want my daughter to know me when she grows up. To have actual memories and not just faded pictures."

Koharu then said, "We cannot force you into the role, Uzumaki. But you will still be sent on missions. That must be clear to you. You're one of our strongest shinobi. With the way things are right now on the continent, we can finally press our advantage and consolidate our power."

Faces, names, rice, lentils and peas . . .

"Yes, consolidating power . . ." I murmured. "Right, but not with me. I've done enough consolidating to last me a lifetime." I walked up to the table, to her and Homura, and all the other council members, and untied my headband from my biceps.

"Naruto . . ." Tsunade whispered.

"You can't be serious . . ." Jiraiya said, his eyes wide.

"I'm done," I told them. The headband weighed heavy in my hand as I put it down. So many memories, a lifetime of devotion . . . but I had made my decision on my father's head. I knew my priorities now, should have known them the moment Chie was born. But I'm a stubborn fool, and I learn only slowly.

"I can promise you this," I said, "if ever someone comes for Konoha, I'll unleash hell on them and beat them back to where they came from. The village is, and always will be, my home. But I'm done with missions. And I'm done with command. Find someone else to 'consolidate' your position in those power games you like to play so much."

"You cannot simply . . . This isn't how . . ." Even mighty Koharu had fallen to stuttering at the sight of my untied headband in front of her.

Shikaku looked at me with narrowed eyes. "What makes you think we won't find ways to bring you into service?"

I didn't know if he meant the threat seriously, or if he was testing my resolve, but I had expected a question like that. "Physically?" I asked. "Come and try if you want, Nara. But you won't have an easy time of it, I promise you that much. What then? Politically? With hostages? If you're threatening my family, don't forget that they're also Hyūga by blood, the former heiress and her child to boot. And even that aside, you don't want to live in a world where you threaten my family."

Shikaku considered this for a moment, then nodded to himself, fishing for another cigarette. "I thought as much."

"You're Konoha's strongest asset," Homura said. "You can't just go."

"I can."

"Listen, kiddo. Think it through. Take a week, and really think it through." Jiraiya was getting desperate. "It would honor the memory of your parents. It would honor the memory of the Sandaime. And what about your soldiers? They _chose_ you. They _made_ you their Rokudaime. If you don't take the Hat, all you do is spit on their devotion!"

He was right in that, and the way he said it left a bad feeling in my stomach. They had waded through blood and war with me, never losing faith. But wouldn't they be able to understand? Hadn't I done enough by now? I looked at the portrait of my father, then shook my head, steeling my resolve. I would find a way to explain it to them. They would be disappointed, no doubt, but I knew their names, their families, where they lived. Now that the ceasefire was in effect, many of them would come home for leave. I would talk to them, explain myself, even if I had to go door to door. And I'd write letters to those who were still out and about. I'd do all I could to make them see. Even if they might not appreciate it, I owed them that much. But I didn't owe them my wife. And I didn't owe them my daughter either.

Tsunade, who had been silent all the while throughout the meeting, rose from her chair. Her voice was quiet, gentle like a mother's almost, and so unlike her usual determined self that it took all of us aback for a moment. "If this is really what you want, Naruto, I can't fault you for it. I did the same when the pain became more than I could bear. I am sure we all did at some point. Strength is bought at a cost, and the stronger you are, the faster you run from that price when it all comes to head. But," Tsunade went on, "it was you who taught me that running away doesn't solve anything. Aren't you about to go down the same road as I did?"

Her question was honest. No accusation, no desire to pressure me. As if out of all the people at this table, she was the only one who had looked beyond the title and was getting to the heart of things, the human part.

At her words, Jiraiya and Shikaku bowed their heads, a flash of old pain flaring in their eyes. Homura and Koharu, who had been about to interrupt when she started speaking, had sat back down halfway through, their faces cast in pensiveness.

I gave her a warm smile. Perhaps of everyone assembled here, she would have made the best Hokage had the timing been right after Jiji's death. Perhaps then the war would've never escalated to this point.

"I'm not fleeing, Tsunade-baa," I said softly, calling her by a name I hadn't used in quite a while. "I still have hopes and dreams. A daughter I'm going to play with every day. A wife I'm going to hold for as long and as often as I'm able to. If you want to call this running, go ahead, but I'm running toward my family. And right now there's no better road ahead of me I could imagine."

"I see," she said. Her thoughtful expression remained a second longer, then a grin pulled at her lips and she winked at me. As if a switch had been flipped, her voice grew loud again, boisterous, not to be trifled with. "Well, that's that then. He wants to spend time with his family, so that's what he's going to do. I'm not going to begrudge him that. And I dare you geezers to do otherwise."

Her eyebrows were raised imperiously as she cast a look around the table.

"Tsunade . . ." Jiraiya said.

"You of all people have no leg to stand on here, Jiraiya," she fired immediately. "You took years off after the last war to shamble between villages and find inspiration for your books. And don't even start with your spy network. You're a lazy man at heart. I know you created it to be self-sufficient."

If Jiraiya had a rebuttal it never found its way into that discussion. He looked undecided, before shrugging and leaning back in his chair.

"We need a Hokage," Homura said.

"And we have a stellar contender for the position," Tsunade shot back. "That Aburame boy has gotten victory after victory, enough to make a man like A hesitate. Whether his speeches are fierce or not, his actions are what counts. And from what I've heard, he carries a fire for Konoha inside him that torched B hard enough to pull his hand from the stove when it mattered most. Give him a shot. Guide him. That's what you're here for, isn't it?"

Homura cleared his throat. "Even so, there will be a split in the forces. Half of what remains of Konoha's strength has aligned with Uzumaki, whether we like it or not."

"I will take care of that as best I can," I said. "I know it's not ideal, and many will be disappointed, but I'm going to talk to them. All of them. I'll explain my choice, and I'll put in as many words for Shino as I can. This is my decision, and I'll shoulder as much of it as possible."

"There you go," Tsunade said. "That should be every concern for now, right? Or is there anyone else with input? Shikaku?"

"I'm good. I've worked often enough with Shino. While he's not the most charismatic choice, he'll get the job done with no issue, I've no doubt."

I couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped me as no one else said anything. "Thanks, Tsunade-baa."

She rounded the table until she came to stand in front of me. By now I was a head taller than her, and she had to put both hands on my shoulders and push me down a little before kissing my brow. She smiled up at me. "Go now, you brat. You made a lot of trouble for us today and we'll have a hell of a time clearing everything up. You being here will only make this more chaotic."

I tried to apologize, but she shushed me. "Go. Spend time with your family, Naruto. You've earned it well enough by now."

I gave her hand a squeeze, took another look at the row of portraits hanging above the assembled council, and turned to leave.

She was right. I had someone waiting for me.

* * *

It was one of the last warm days before Fall would cool off and the trees lost their colorful leaves. The trees that lent their shade to me and my family had begun turning yellow and red already. The switch would be very quick. Another month, then the world would turn as white at the southern coast of Fire Country as it had happened in northern Waterfall a month ago. For now, though, the sun was blinking through the foliage, puncturing the shadow with light at every breeze.

"Is it really alright for you to be here?" Hinata asked, handing me a cup of tea. I had taken her and Chie to a place right at the coast, a hill with a gentle grass-grown slope that was overlooking the beach. If you strained enough, you could make out Tea Country just across the water.

"It's more than alright," I said, taking a sip. Hinata had prepared lots of food that now lay scattered across our blanket while I leaned against the bottom of a tree, her head on my shoulder. On the other end of the blanket, Chie was crawling on all fours, tumbling around. She was giggling a lot, and luckily had gotten used to me quickly in the past three weeks. Now and then I still couldn't help but wonder though: when all was said and done, would she be proud of me?

Returning from those thoughts, I said, "I explained the situation to as many as I could before we left. With Tsunade and Jiraiya both talking up Shino and guiding him, he should have no trouble settling in."

"He always was the most hardworking member of Team Eight," Hinata mused.

"He'll do a good job," I said. Then I grinned. "But now enough of other men, or you'll make me jealous." I pulled her into a kiss, only withdrawing when I heard a gurgle from Chie.

"Dada!" she suddenly called.

My eyes widened and I looked on how Chie, slowly, laboriously, climbed to her feet, shaking from the exertion. She stood unsure for a moment, then put one foot forward. A moment long I feared she'd topple. Then she righted herself, still balancing precariously, and took another step, and another yet again. She was halfway across the blanket when she fell, but I was already there, scooping her up, laughing.

Chie was grinning up at me, victory and thirst for more in her pale eyes. She wanted to master this strange form of movement we called walking.

No, I thought as I held her proudly in my arms, this wasn't so bad a way to live. I had made my choice. It was different than my father's. It was different than my old dream. But it burnt no less bright.

If anything, I think it was warmer.

* * *

**THE END**


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